


Captured Pretender

by fireffly



Category: Supernatural RPF, The Pretender
Genre: Abused Jensen Ackles, Agent Jared, Brilliant Jensen, Captive Jensen, Crossover, Dark, Dom Jared, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, M/M, Pretender Jensen, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 66,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireffly/pseuds/fireffly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen was a child prodigy, a brilliant mind, who was abducted at a very young age and raised in captivity by a secret organisation called The Center; an evil organization that kidnapped, brainwashed, and trained children for their own desires.  When Jensen discovered that the Center used his data for nefarious purposes, he escaped.</p><p>The one man he hoped would never come after him, the one man he feared more than the Center, is the only man who could have capture him. Jared, his first friend, his first lover, and his first enemy.</p><p>Being dragged back is every horror Jensen knew it would be, and leading to nothing he ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. I'm a slow writer, but it's getting there. Comments and kudos are often the kick in the ass I need when writers block is picking on me.

Jensen pressed his back against the red brick wall of the small home located across the street from the municipal library; hard, cold, solid bricks to lean on. The pressure at his back compressed his lungs, forcing his breathing to tighten, aided with several deep breaths, slowly inhaled, held a second or two, then slowly exhaled, and soon his breathing was back to normal, his heartbeat no longer pounding. He took a last cleansing breath and peeked around the corner again, eyes flickering from one thing to another quickly - building, entrance, parking lot, two well-built men, standing beside two hastily parked black sedans, the empty alley - but his mind absorbed it all, printing it into his brain, cataloguing, analyzing, verifying, gauging potential risk and possible escape, and all done in a handful of seconds. Then he pressed his back up against the wall again. 

Comfort always came to him with his back protected, feeling the support, the calm and security of knowing nothing could sneak up on him. His handler, Jeff Morgan, had taught him to always watch his back, always support it, and so long as he followed that and the few other simple rules laid out in the training he had endured as far back as he could remember, he would always be able to stay one step ahead. He smirked, knowing that the Center regretted some of his more less than traditional subsidiary training. Jeff had often said he would have made a hell of a marine – the greatest compliment that could ever come from the old jarhead himself.

Another quick peek to see if anyone was coming or going yet showed that they were still inside. Jensen took a moment to let his eyes scatter around the other areas, the sections within view that were not a direct threat to him - other buildings, one apartment, one office, a small store, two more old houses, fire hydrant (yellow), eleven parked cars (one less than the weekly average) bus booth (empty) - because, this was the Center he was talking about, everything, everywhere and everyone could be a threat when agents of the Center were this close. And this, with Ms. Parker and her pit bulls just across the street, was too close.

Ms. Parker could be tenacious. But then, and he had to chuckle, perhaps his constant baiting her did not help. Well, he'd be more careful in the future. Her getting this close gave him cause for concern, but it wasn't worry, not really. She had been searching for him for almost a year and this was the closest she had ever been, not that she had any idea how close she really was. 

Wow. A year. Jensen could hardly believe the anniversary of his freedom was so soon. What a quicksilver kind of year it had been, so much, too much, too quick, to pass in a mere three hundred and sixty five days. Everything had been new, so fresh and exciting, alien even, which was not unexpected. After all, he was, literally, living in a whole new world. A year ago, at the age of 27, Jensen had stepped through a set of large oak doors for the first time as a free man. Okay, not actually free – more of an escaped genius who'd been held captive since he was eight years old, trained and used as a tool for a nefarious organization known only as the Center that, without fail, used him, his mind, his inventions, and his understanding of patterns and logic to become more powerful than most governments around the world. Still, more free than he'd ever known before. They wanted him back. Desperately wanted him back. Jensen would rather die than go back.

Peeking around the corner carefully, Jensen watched Ms. Parker and her pit bulls – four large overly muscular men – storm out of the library. The click clack of her stiletto heels drew attention to her lusciously long legs. Damn that woman had a pair, not that Jensen had ever really noticed before escaping. He’d barely associated women and sex in the same thought back then. It was 'unacceptable behaviour', according to his handler. Protocol dictated Jensen was to have nothing to detract from his training and work. He was to focus his mind, not his libido. Well, at least he'd checked that one off his 'do as soon as humanly possible when you can act like a man and not a computer' list. The leggy, dark haired woman barked a few commands to the men around her before slipping into the passenger side of a car, her driver already hitting the ignition, and ignoring her pit bulls. No, not bit bulls – blow fish; a gang of overgrown blow fish (all pumped up on steroids, muscles bulging, mouths hanging agape) trying to get an apology in. Hotty and the Blowfish. Jensen grinned. Good visual, he liked it. As her car pulled into traffic, the remaining blowfish jumped into the second car and Jensen allowed the last of the tension to slither from of his body as he watched the tail lights fade into the distance. However, not being a reckless man, he waited another hour, watched who went in and out of the library before he shouldered his bag, and carefully crossed the street.

Silly Rabbit, he thought of Ms. Parker, tricks are for geniuses.

It was her own fault. She should have figured out the patterns earlier, it wasn't that difficult. Fourteen steps in eleven months had led to this little town where Jensen’s parents had moved to, and soon after married in, so many years ago. Parents he barely remembered; although, Jensen thought, his mother had blond hair and smelled slightly of lilacs, and his father smelled of oil and gas and had dark, almost black hair. They had been married in this small town, a small gathering, a handful of new local friends and, hopefully, have left behind legal documents or family information. Jensen knew they had lived here for less than two years and had moved away before he was born. What Ms. Parker hadn’t known and probably just learned, was that a decade ago, a fire in the basement storage section had destroyed all records dating back over twenty years or more. So, a dead end? For Ms. Parker it was. 

Jensen, however, had learned that the old court secretary had taken pictures of every couple married in the local Catholic Church and, even though legal documents would have been better, old pictures of long lost family members with names written on the back would do just as well. And, oh yeah, the secretary also happened to be the great aunt of the local librarian. After introductions, Jensen had met a kind woman, bored with her job, who had loved to help him find old pictures from his grandmother’s eightieth birthday party. No relation to any missing genius called Jensen, Last Name Unknown.

He slipped around the back of the library where he was supposed to meet up with Ellen Harvelle, the afternoon librarian, who had promised to meet him before her shift started. He leaned his shoulder and hip casually up against the wall near the back of the building where she usually parked, out of sight from the street or anyone using the library. Any danger coming into the alley could be seen due to the small missing panel of the high fence behind him which separated the library from the next municipal building. He had taken care of that the night before. Jeff would be proud. Watch your front, cover your six, and always make sure you have an escape plan. Jensen saw her car as it turned into the almost empty parking lot and gave her a wave and a smile; a somewhat wasted effort as her attention seemed to be more focused on her seat belt, which was clearly giving her a little trouble. He gave her a minute, and then pushed off the building to go help. Before he could take a second step, however, a large vice-like hand clamped around his neck, spinning his body around and slamming him face first into the wall, barely giving him time to get his hands up and turn his face to brace himself. A force, feeling like a tall wall itself, leaned hard into his back, grinding him into the wall. His cheek scraped against the brick, all the air gusted out of his lungs under the sudden blow. He could barely grunt. Eyes blinking rapidly, he fought to keep focus, fought to suck in breath - instinct more than anything had him bucking his body back, not that it made any difference. Hands grabbed at his wrists, slamming them against the bricks on either side of his face. Two, maybe three seconds tops, and he could not move. The softest purr breathed its warmth into his ear, “Hello, Jensen.”

Every hope, every dream, every tiniest moment of hard-sought happiness crashed inside of him and his heart all but stopped. He gasped out, shock evident in his voice, “Jared.”

The tall heavy body pressed harder into his, moving ever so slightly and Jensen's eyes closed tight, jaw clenching to hold in a whimper. He could feel Jared so completely enveloping him, and even more so when the man’s hips thrust in just the tiniest bit. Another soul-crushing purr escaped Jared’s smirking lips, “You remember me.”

“I'm not going back!”

A dark chuckle rumbled through Jared's chest and Jensen could feel it move through him until its warmth teased the back of his neck. This was a whole world worse than if Ms. Parker had caught him. 

Jared whispered, “Fight me.”

Jensen grit his teeth, his jaw rippling, his mind spinning instantly in scenario after possible scenario; he blinked each away, knowing his strengths and accepting his limitations. He remained quiet. Jared whispered again, “C'mon. Fight me. I'm allowed to use force if you fight me.”

Jensen swallowed hard, his throat burning in dryness. He knew better than to fight. The other man had four inches on him - miles of chiseled shoulders tapering down to trap him, held up by the longest muscular legs probably in the history of mankind. Not only that, but where Jensen had grown up in the Center learning how to use his mind for strategy, Jared had grown up learning how to use his body for the field. Of all the worst-case scenarios Jensen had plotted over the last year, this was by far nastier than anything he'd thought the Center would send after him. And despite having spent a lifetime on plotting, planning, out thinking, and out manoeuvring the enemy, he was powerless. Fear, more than he had ever known, was drowning him.

A little sad pout yanked his attention to where it should be. “Aw. Not gonna fight me, Jen? Not even a little?”

Jensen pressed his forehead into the wall and forced his limbs loose. No, no fighting. It didn't mean he was giving up. He would pick his battles. Jared rolled his hips slowly, carefully grinding against Jensen's ass cheek, the threat very clear, and Jensen hissed. “We're still in public. You have a witness. How far are you willing to jeopardize the Center’s secrets?”

“Who? Ellen?” Jared laughed, stepping back just enough to pull Jensen's arms to the small of his back, cuffing them too quickly for Jensen’s liking. Jensen's heart quickened as he felt the cold metal tighten. He was instantly distracted when Jared's tongue flickered at his earlobe as the man laughed. “She's not gonna be any trouble. And neither will you. Behave, Jenny, unless you want me to have my fun with her instead.”

Jensen understood the threat. Learned it well, back when they were boys, friends really, until it had all come crashing down one lonely night behind the boiler in the basement. Jensen shook off the memory and whispered, “Don't hurt her; she's not part of this.”

Another laugh; Jensen hated that condescending glee only bullies and madmen ever seemed to have, and he jerked from the man’s grasp. Jared’s grip on his bicep yanked him close again, and then, rising to his full six foot four, he shoved Jensen forward. The easygoing Texas accent slipped out between soft lips, a gentle face, almost innocent looking hazel eyes twinkling over the wide dimpled smile, “Thank you, Ma'am. You've been a great help and I for one will sleep better tonight.”

Jensen started to turn to Jared, wanting to read his face, but before he had the chance, Ellen stepped forward and spit at Jensen, “You sick fuck. I hope you rot in hell for what you did.”

“He will, Ma'am. Texas doesn't take too kindly to his sort.”

Jared's grip on his bicep tightened, hauling Jensen off, spittle dripping down Jensen’s chin onto his shirt. “What the hell did you say to her?”

The grin that curled those lips made Jensen want to pound Jared’s face in, and Jensen was not a violent man, not by nature. It was a look of victory and impishness with just a touch of laughter. “Oh that. Just told her you raped an eleven year old many years ago and, now that you are out of prison, you want to find her and pay her back for sending you there.”

Jensen's feet dug in and he pulled back. “You what?”

Jared just laughed harder, his whole face lighting up like a child who’d just found that Toys R Us had forgotten to lock its back door, and he pulled again, half dragging Jensen to a car and slamming him face down onto the hood. Jensen kicked out, growling as he felt Jared's hips pressing in. The threat alone was enough to spark his instinct to fight; he jammed his heel back again and again until he heard the stifled oomph of victory. Victory instantly stolen away when Jared fingers pinched hard on a cluster of nerves just behind Jensen’s collarbone, sending spasms of pain through his body. Jensen cried out, “Christ!” 

He gasped for breath, trying to roll his shoulders to relax the nerves, eyes blinking wetness away as he fought the pain down; he didn’t even realize for a full minute that Jared's hands were not on him. He only noticed when Jared grabbed the cuffs at his back and raised them slightly, grinding Jensen's face harder into the metal of the car.

“Just taking a little precaution, Jenny. Making sure you don't have a weapon or anything.”

Jensen’s laboured breathing hitched for a whole other reason as soon as Jared's hands passed over him - over his shoulders, down his arms, up then down his back, around his sides to his front, brushing over every inch of his chest and belly before moving further down to his jeans. Large hands shoved into his pockets, exploring and searching much more than was needed, and pulled everything out, tossing the contents to clatter against the hood of the car. Jared crouched down then, his hands sliding down each side of Jensen’s legs. As the hands came up the inside of his thighs, Jensen froze, eyes snapping wide. Jared's laughter drifted to him as he felt the two large hands zeroing in on his crotch, one finally reaching down to cup his balls. Jensen hissed through his teeth, fighting to hold in the blast of words wanting to explode out of him. However, it did not take a genius to know that when handcuffed and helplessly spread over a car, it was not a good idea to piss off the man gripping one's balls. He closed his eyes, the frustration churning and racing, his fear creeping higher, almost to a panic and it took everything in him, every ounce of training, to not surrender to that panic. And he wasn't even sure if it was worth it because, as of that moment, he could not see anything that would stop him from being taken back.

“Jared...”

His words were cut off as Jared's hand let go only to grab his arm and yank him up. Jensen didn’t fight the manhandling into the passenger side of the car, but struggled to keep another grunt of pain inside as his shoulders jarred from being shoved in so roughly. Once seated, Jared crouched down beside the car and reached across Jensen's body, pulling the seat belt out and stretching it up, threateningly. Jensen realized what was happening. With his hands locked in cuffs behind him and a seat belt on, he would be completely vulnerable. He squirmed in the seat, not that he thought he could get away, only that he could not stop himself. His blood pulsed through his veins, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything. Jared peered up at him, that impish grin still lighting all the way to his eyes as his hand caressed over Jensen’s immobile thighs lightly, just reminding them both that he could.

“Still afraid of me, Jenny?”

“Stop calling me that.”

Jared locked in the seat belt then let his hand slide back over Jensen, cupping over his hip, slithering up to his belly, up his abs; his fingertips sought out ridges of muscle and indentation of ribs, then glided over his chest, pausing a moment at Jensen's nipple to flick it lightly through the cloth. As his hand rose, Jensen's chin did the same, turning away from Jared and his unwanted exploration. Jared gave up his game and grabbed Jensen's chin, pulling him back. “I always called my bitch Jenny. You remember that, don't you?”

“Get your hands off me,” Jensen hissed in the coldest tone he could.

With a low chuckle, Jared leaned in and squeezed Jensen’s chin just a bit tighter, possibly enough to leave bruises. “Are you going to be a good boy?”

Jensen mumbled through forced pouting lips, absently wondering whether he looked like a blowfish now. too, “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” Jared grinned, releasing his chin. “But then you didn't the moment I was put on the case.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen would do anything not to be brought back and Jared knows it.

The quiet vibrations lulled Jensen into a morose calm, head leaned to the side, eyes staring out the window and seeing nothing. His chest was rising and falling in an almost Zen like quietness, yet, despite all appearances, his mind raced. He was doing the only thing he knew how to do. Think. He had already gone through everything he remembered of Jared; he had already mentally listed his strengths and weaknesses, and sadly, Jensen had to admit that the man had many more of the former than the latter. Next, he listed his own strengths, making a point of ignoring his weaknesses at that point, since they would not help. Three mental notes he took from that exercise were:

1\. Jared had more strength and more physical conflict training that he did.   
2\. Jared took too much pleasure in his job and the darker aspects he could indulge in.  
3\. Jared did not consider Jensen a threat to him.

Yeah. Really not helping, yet.

Then, Jensen let his mind slither and scamper over some of the specialized training he'd read up on. Specifically, SERE – Survive, Evade, Resist, Escape. He might not have participated in that, or any actual military training (they'd wanted him to know it, not be able to do it) but what the mind believed, the body could achieve. On second thought, having Jared underestimate him might be useful. Having Jared believe Jensen still feared him as deeply as he once did could be useful. His mind fluttered a moment with a memory from long ago - the dark basement, the clunking noises of the boiler, the cold, damp air, his own intense heartbeat threatening to pound out of his chest, his trembling hands, the bite of cement digging into his knees, throat stretched and burning, his nostrils flaring to suck in any breath he could get. He spun his head around, yanking himself to the present.

“Not calling a chopper to take me in?”

“Oh hell, no. I'm walking you through the front door. Can't wait to see Ms. Parker's face,” he laughed.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Pretty much.” Jared turned and looked at Jensen, grinning. “Should I take this seriously?”

Jensen took a deep breath and forced himself to keep his eyes on his captor. “Jared, we were friends once. We were close. I protected you and you protected me. Now you're going to hand me over to them. You know what they're going to do to me.”

Jared's smile faltered a moment, and then he gave up trying to hold onto it, his eyes turning back to the road. After a moment he spoke, “That's none of my business.”

“Are you telling me you don't feel anything about this?”

Jensen watched the ripple of Jared’s strong jaw as the man clenched his teeth, absently noting that the little vein on the side of his forehead still popped out when he did that. “I've been trained not to feel.”

“That's crap and you know it. We are people. No matter what they tried to make us believe, we are just people. You have feelings like every other person on this planet.”

“You shouldn't have left.” Jared glanced over and looked at him pointedly. “You belong to them. I belong to them. Now shut the fuck up or I'll gag you.”

Jensen bit off his next words, taking a moment to decide if he should push. He glanced at the road a moment or two, watching the road signs pass, the mile markers, and knew that every second brought him closer and closer to his own personal hell.

“They'll lock me down,” he spoke softly, not looking over again. “They'll use drugs, probably some torture; they’ll fuck with my head until I lose my sense of self, until I forget I am a person, a man, and then they'll put me into a cage and never let me out. You know that, don't you?”

Jared's jaw rippled more, his teeth grinding harder. “Shut up.”

Jensen looked over and saw the whiteness of Jared's knuckles as the man clenched the steering wheel. “They'll make me do things, plot and plan, and I'll have to live with the consequences of that, of people dying because of things I thought up. But I won't be able to, Jared. I'll find a way to make it stop. Even if I have to kill myself.”

“Don't say that. You'll manage.”

“I don't want to manage. I want to live. The life I've had this last year, the things I saw, did. This is life. I won't go back. I'll die before I let it happen to me again.”

“Shut up!”

“And when I am dead, when you hear about them hauling my body downstairs to the furnace to dispose of it, will you feel as excited about that as you will feel about walking me in through the front door?”

“One more fucking word out of you and I will gag you. Try me. Say one more fucking word.”

Jensen swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest. He forced the words out quickly, “I'll give you what you want.”

His breath stopped in his throat and his lips clenched tight together to hide the way they trembled, waiting for Jared to respond. After what felt like a lifetime, Jared finally spoke, “Willingly?”

Jensen let out a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

Jared said nothing, his eyes locked on the road, his hold on the steering wheel easing a bit as his hands gripped then re-gripped, over and over. Jensen could not help but watch his movements, the rise and fall of his chest, the tiny flickers of pink tongue that licked just inside his bottom lip. Jensen waited, his eyes never leaving Jared. Finally, after another lifetime had passed, Jared spoke again.

“You expect me to betray the Center like you did? You know what they'll do to me if they find out I let you go.”

“You haven't called in since you caught me. They don't even know you have me, do they? I sure as hell won't tell them. Doubt you will either. Then give me a day – twenty-four hours; I'll disappear and you can decide if you want to hunt me again. If you can catch me twice, I'll deserve it.”

“I'll catch you, no question there.”

“Maybe. I never expected it to be you. Had I known, I would have done things differently.”

Jared smirked, the impish grin slipping back on. “Oh, please. That makes no difference. Whether you expected it or not, I would always have found you.”

“Care to put that theory to a test?”

Jared’s hazel eyes twinkled at the challenge; ever since they were kids, Jared could never refuse a challenge. He laughed a bit. “This is your plan? This is the best the great brainiac can come up with? I let you go so we can just play this another day?”

Jensen shook his head slightly. “No. Trust me, my head isn't anywhere near able to come up with a plan. I'm scared, hell, I'm terrified of going back there. This isn't a plan, it's negotiations.”

“Negotiations?”

“You asked me before if I am still afraid of you. The answer is yes. But going back to the Center scares me more, so I'll give you what you want. All I ask in return is for twenty-four hours.”

Jared's eyes cut from the road to Jensen, studying his face. “So,” he dropped his hand to Jensen's leg, “show me this is a serious offer. Spread your legs.”

Jensen swallowed hard; offering and doing were two very different things. He dropped his eyes, focusing on the dashboard in front of him, and shifted, spreading his thighs wider. Jared's hand slid down, nails catching the inner seam of Jensen’s jeans and caressing it up, stopping within a hair’s breadth of where it was aiming. Jensen's breath quickened, his back straightening as much as it could, blood rushing through his veins. Jared's glance flicked to the rear view mirror, then the sides. Before Jensen knew what was happening, Jared was pulling off the road into the dirt and turning the car off. He unhooked his seat belt and turned in his seat to face Jensen, his hand returning to the Jensen’s thigh; this time the hand moved all the way up, cupping Jensen’s soft cock through his jeans. Jared purred, “I love that you don't really want it.”

Jensen kept his focus where it was, his attention on anything other than Jared's touch. Jared knew well what he was doing, talented large hands drawing out unwanted pleasure until Jensen released a captured breath and shifted awkwardly, his cock thickening between his legs.

“This'd go better if you uncuffed me.”

“I have a better idea.” Jared reached down, unbuckled Jensen's belt. He then released the button of Jensen's jeans and slowly, ever so slowly, unzipped them. Jensen's jaw clenched tighter and he fought not to scream at Jared to get his hands off him. If it meant another chance at freedom then he could do this. He sucked his next breath in hard through clenched teeth as Jared's hand slid beneath his boxers, wrapping around Jensen’s half-hard cock.

“Like that, Jenny?”

Jensen pressed his body deep into the seat, creating a distracting pressure through his confined shoulders so he wouldn’t rock up into the touches. He didn’t want to remember that Jared could do this to him, still do this to him, even after everything. He felt the blood surging down and his hardness filling the large hand, his need beginning to pump through him and building the heat in his belly.

“Answer me.” Fingers clenched hard and Jensen winced. 

A single word; a confession seeping out quickly, “Yes.”

Strong fingers sliding up and down his cock, thumb coiling over the head, gathering the first leaking drops and Jensen could not stop the reluctant roll of his hips. Jared let out a soft purr, “There's my little whore.”

Jensen's face heated as the blush moved up his neck and throat, colouring his cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears. Jared leaned close, whispering into Jensen’s ear as his hand pumped Jensen’s cock, “You missed this, didn't you?”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

A warm wet tongue tickled the shell of his ear. “How many men have you let fuck you in the last year?”

“None of your business.”

Jared laughed ever so softly, heated breath teasing wet flesh, and Jensen's head tilted all on its own, opening up to Jared. “Did you think of me or did you save it for me?”

Jared’s fingers clenched around the head of Jensen’s cock, twisting slightly, and Jensen flinched up again, hips thrusting into it, eyes squeezing closed. “Jared, I said I would do what you want. I didn't say we would have a conversation. Just get on with it.”

“So eager, little whore. Want my cock in your mouth that bad?”

No longer able to still himself, wetness coating his own shaft and easing the friction of Jared's tightening grip, he let out little mewls of pleasure as his need grew stronger, its heat rolling and burning its demands low in his belly and all he wanted was release. But he knew getting off would not be this easy. Jared never gave anything generously. It was only a matter of time before he'd stop and take what he wanted anyway.

“Yeah,” was all Jensen could say. All he would say.

“Hungry little cock slut. Love what the outside world has done to you.”

Sliding his hand out of Jensen's pants, he reached down to his own, unbuckling and unzipping, and lifted his hips up to slide his own jeans down to his knees. The new freedom allowed Jared to lift his right leg up over the side and he leaned back, hand stroking his cock a few times. He released Jensen's seat belt and let it slide back.

“So, come on. Come and get it.”

“Uncuff me.”

“You don't need hands. Only your mouth.”

Jensen's eyes snapped over to Jared. “No way. Uncuff me.”

Jared’s lips coiled into that dark grin that has always sent shudders through Jensen. “You said you'd do what I want. This is what I want.”

That stopped Jensen. He'd known Jared would want a blowjob. He always wanted a blowjob. He loved getting Jensen hard, watching him stroke himself or just endure being hard while he sucked Jared off, but never before had he demanded Jensen not have his hands to control the depth of the thrusts. Without his hands, he'd have no control, no way to stop Jared from going too far or too deep. His mind calculated how long it would take, how much damage could be done. He skimmed over previous experiences, knowing that Jared being older meant more control of his climax. Basically, though, it would only take ten to twelve minutes. So, ten to twelve minutes versus freedom. Not much of a choice. Jensen lowered his eyes and nodded. His body twisted in his seat, struggling to lean forward. Without arms, everything was slow, ridiculously clumsy, ludicrously uncoordinated, until finally Jared's patience ran out and he grabbed the back of Jensen's collar, yanking him forward. Jensen let out a growl, a blush darkening his cheeks at being manhandled so easily. He shifted his feet under him, jamming one against the floor for leverage, and moved closer into place. He took a breath, gathering his courage, and looked down at the very close up view of Jared's hard cock. Damn, he had forgotten how big Jared was. Jensen’s tongue flicked out, licking over the head, twirling his tongue into all those still remembered sensitive spots, desperate to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Jared combed his hands through Jensen's hair as his warm mouth began to work, tongue lapping, wetting the flesh, licking slowly. Jensen's neck stretched out, the position almost as uncomfortable as his effort to catch the cock in his mouth, but eventually, his tongue curled around and brought the head between his lips. Teeth instantly tucked away and the tip of his tongue played under the edges of the mushroomed head, dipping into the slit to lap up a few pearls of Jared's juices. Jared let out a moan, hips thrusting up a little as the pressure of his palm on the back of Jensen's head increased enough to send tendrils of fear through Jensen. Forcing himself to ignore it, Jensen worked his tongue against the long vein underneath, driving Jared's hips to buck up once again.

“God, I missed your mouth. Never met anyone who could suck me like you.”

Jensen tried ignoring the way Jared’s words sent a warm twinge through his belly, and instead, tightened his stomach muscles to coil his body and pull back; the effort alone was straining, twisting his wrists in the cuffs as his own weight brought him back down. He worked to find a rhythm in conjunction with Jared's shallow thrusts. The hand pressed harder on the back of his head, pressing him lower, as Jared’s hips rose up and made his cock sink deeper, invading Jensen’s throat. An involuntary whimper burst out around his mouthful of cock.

“Does my little cock slut want more?” purred Jared, and Jensen knew he had purposely misinterpreted the sounds. 

With that, Jared pushed deeper before Jensen had a chance to prepare, and the cock shoved down his throat. Jensen instinctively pulled back but the pressure on his head locked him in place. He gagged hard, nostrils flaring to suck in whatever breath he could, as he fought past the urge to gag again. Tears slipped through his tightly closed eyes. He knew fighting was futile, he couldn’t save himself, and forced himself to go as limp as possible.

Feeling the surrender in his actions, Jared eased up on his grip and Jensen was able to pull back, parting his lips around the cock in his mouth and gulping in air.

“It’s okay, Jenny. Know that you're out of practice. Won't hold it against you.”

If he could have, Jensen would have rolled his eyes at the effort of feigned compassion. He'd known Jared far too long to believe it. The hand pressed down again, driving hips thrust the cock back in and Jensen could do nothing but accept it. He swallowed as soon as the cock passed his gag reflex, handling it better this time; drool mingled with salty precome dripped out the corner of his mouth and slithered down the cock. Jensen started pulling back, his hollowed cheeks sucking hard and doing everything in his limited power to get Jared off. Before he had the chance to make more of an effort, the choice was taken away. Jared's fingers tangled in his hair, twisting in a tight grip, and started thrusting Jensen’s head up and down, sliding deeper each time, stretching Jensen’s throat with each thrust until Jensen's nose was tickling in pubic hair and Jared was in an almost constant moan.

“Oh yeah. That's it, slut. Such a fucking natural.”

Tears flowed freely, and Jensen's throat burned from being stretched open. His nostrils flared, drool dribbling out to soak his chin, as Jared used his mouth harder and harder with each thrust. Jensen’s mind repeated a mantra over and over again as he endured. Ten to twelve minutes for freedom. Ten to twelve minutes for freedom.

Jared bent over, his hand sliding under Jensen's body to seek out his cock. Jensen snapped his hips out of reach, knowing what Jared would find. He hated this, perhaps most of all. Hated that Jared could do this, could make him feel this. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want to be hard. He didn’t want to need. God, he did not want any of it. Jared's grip on Jensen’s hair twisted viciously as he rammed hard into Jensen's throat, blocking any chance to breathe. Message clear. Jensen forced his body still, forced himself to not move or object, as Jared's large hand squirmed back underneath his belly and slithered inside his jeans to find Jensen’s hot throbbing erection. Jared pulled on his cock, matching the thrusts to his throat. Jensen's moans seeped out around the flesh in his mouth. Experienced fingers stroked and pulled, twisted at the head, thumb teasing at the slit. With a hard rut of his hips, Jensen dove more wantonly into his own task, putting all attention, all effort into getting Jared to come - sucking hard, tongue dancing, teasing, caressing, seeking out the head with each up thrust and clenching hard with each down thrust.

“Fuck, yes. Love it, don't you? Fuck.”

Jensen's own hips thrust into the grip, his juices coating Jared’s hand as he ground harder, needier. Jensen's moans teased out Jared's release. The closer he got to his climax, the tighter his fingers clenched in Jensen's hair, thrusting Jensen’s warm mouth harder, deeper, and faster. Subconsciously yanking on his bound hands, Jensen ached to touch, grip himself, as his mouth was fucked, used. His own cock throbbed, dripped, ached, as tears flowed down his cheeks, and he didn't know if he was crying because of the pounding to his throat, the aching need of his cock or the frustration of enduring all this against his will. Because, whether he had agreed to this or not, this was against his will. He felt vulnerable, powerless, and the fact that he was hard while enduring it only made his shame deeper. He might have been earning his freedom, but Jared was making sure it came with a heavy cost and with more memories he would do anything for his photographic memory to forget.

“That's it, Jenny. Gonna come. You gonna swallow it down like my good little bitch?”

Jensen did not answer; he couldn’t answer with a mouthful of cock, so he just sucked hard, body rutting against the hand circling his cock, as he felt his balls clenching up. He moaned loud, hoping that it would be all the answer Jared needed. Then suddenly the fingers on his cock were gone and two hands were gripping his head. Jared's hips stuttered as the man growled out a loud curse and, before Jensen had any chance to prepare, Jared was coming. Thick salty come shot into Jensen’s throat and he choked hard, hard enough for Jared's grip to ease, letting him pull back. With only the weight of the pulsing cock on his tongue, Jensen gulped fast, sucking in whatever breath he could as he forced himself to drink down his captor's come. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, as if he could hide from that small part inside of him that had missed this. Missed Jared. When Jared's cock eventually stopped shooting, his grip on Jensen's hair eased as the larger man gasped, fighting for breath, his hand gently petting Jensen. 

Jensen couldn’t move, well not much, without the use of his hands and with his belly digging into the console between the two seats. He was panting, felt his own cock throbbing and tried to ignore it, hoping with everything in him that Jared would ignore it as well. 

“Give me a hand here and help me sit up,” he snipped, the feeling of vulnerability never quite leaving him, and the humiliation of his position intensified now that the heat of sex was fading. Instead of helping him, Jared opened his car door and climbed out, shutting it behind him. Jensen's head snapped up as much as he could, trying to follow Jared, but it was useless. His feet could not find purchase to move himself, not with his arms locked behind him and his weight more on his upper body than lower, and he could not ignore the cool air against the hot flesh of his opened jeans. The passenger side door swung open suddenly. Jared grabbed the back of Jensen’s shirt with one hand and his bicep with the other and yanked him from the car. Jensen’s body slid out, twisting as he was unceremoniously jerked around and left to crumble to his knees before he could get his feet under him. Jared's large hand grabbed his collar and pulled him to his crotch.

“Clean me.”

Jensen's head twisted to the side, hissing through his teeth, his voice husky broken, “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“With everything you've already done, you're really going to blow it on this?”

Jensen’s ass dropped back to his heels, his head bowing down, and he could already feel his face burning. There was something beyond dirty, downright loathsome, about being made to clean the cock he'd just been forced to please. It was one thing when it was done in the heat of the moment, when he was locked up in sex and passion, hunger and need, but like this – kneeling on the ground at the side of the road, terrified some stray car would drive by and see him, with Jared over him, watching; those cold hazel eyes seeing the depths of the depravity forced on him – it was like shining a spot light on everything he was in front of Jared, everything dark and nasty, degraded and used. But to disobey, to refuse, would mean All he had already endured would be for nothing. There really was no choice.

“C'mon, cockwhore, show me what that mouth is good for.”

Jensen's entire being cringed and his face darkened even further. “Jared, don't...”

“Now!”

Jensen flinched once more, but the tone was enough to get him moving and he leaned forward, straining slightly until Jared stepped closer. Using only his tongue and kitten licks, he squeezed his eyes tight and did what was required. Reminding himself that it was only one moment more, just that, one moment more for his freedom. He swallowed back each stray drop of come, saliva and his own tears, lapping away any evidence of himself until Jared was satisfied. The standing man stepped back, tucking his spent cock away and doing up his pants. He crouched down in front of Jensen, taking his chin in his fingers and forcing his head up.

“Look at me.”

Jensen blinked away a few tears threatening to shame him deeper, swallowed back his anxiety, and lifted his gaze up. Jared, the bastard, was grinning.

“So hot, Jenny. You look so beautiful like this.”

Jensen swallowed again, the lump in his burning throat tightening even more. His husked out words in nothing but a whisper, “I did what you wanted.”

Jared nodded slowly, drinking him in. He crouched down, taking Jensen’s head between his hands tenderly and pulled him closer. He slowly licking up the tearstain on Jensen’s cheek before gently kissing his left eye; he then kissed away the tears from his right. There was something intimate, too intimate for Jensen; it made him feel small before the other man, driving in every inch of his submission. Before he could say anything though, Jared leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Not all that I wanted.”

His hand traced down Jensen's chest, pausing a moment at his nipple to pinch at it through his shirt. Jensen shifted, his breath catching on a gasp, as he realised what Jared was doing. He started to pull back, a desperate whimper seeping out. “No, don't...”

Jared's left hand tightened around Jensen's shoulder, holding him still while his right captured Jensen’s dick. He purred his soft laughter, “So fucking hard for me.”

Jensen's eyes squeezed tight, fighting the shame and tears again. He hated how his body reacted, how he lacked control – it was no different from when they were teenagers and Jared had used him in the basement, had taught him to take what was done, to accept being used, to need it. His head dropped forward onto Jared's shoulder, gasping as the man’s thumb rolled and teased the head of his cock; he could feel his own juices betraying him more and his hips rolling into the touch.

“That's it, show me what a slut you are. Show me how hard you are from being used, so desperate after cleaning me.”

Jensen didn't know what was worse - what Jared had done to him (what he had let Jared do) or his own desperate reaction to it. Perhaps, it was how clear everything was to Jared, and the way the man laid it all out for Jensen, highlighting his weaknesses, his depravity, and stealing his ability to hide from his shame. 

For two years, he had sucked Jared's cock whenever he was told to, yanked into the basement, pushed behind the boiler and shoved to his knees. Not once in those two years had he ever said no, not until the last time. All he had wanted was a friend, a brother; someone who would care about him for something other than his ability to solve puzzles. He had thought Jared was different; he had been so strong, defiant, had defended Jensen from the adults, had taught him how to laugh, had told him they would always take care of each other and Jensen had believed him. He’d wanted so bad to believe him. It was a dream, a dream that had become a nightmare on the cold cement floor of the basement where Jeff had found him the next morning. He'd told no one what had happened, who had been downstairs with him; he’d never said anything about how Jared had gone too far. It had been the last time he had spoken to Jared before today. It had been the last time he had ever allowed himself to trust anyone.

His gasps came quicker, hips undulating with each touch, each pull, each experienced twist and clench; his whimpers drove him faster as Jared’s thumb teased more juices from his slit. He tried to bite back his moans, so Jared wouldn’t hear them, not that it mattered. Jared knew his sounds. They hadn't changed in the decade since Jared had last touched him. Jared's words reminded him of that with such clarity.

“That's it, Jenny. Fuck my hand; show me how much you need it. Fuck. So hot like this.”

Jensen sobbed as he came hard, violently jerking into the grip. Jared stroked him through it, petting his head with the feigned compassion and care he'd all but perfected since their last time. Touches Jensen used to believe in. Jensen was trembling hard from his release, swallowing repeatedly to wet his dry, damaged throat, his tongue feeling swollen against the bottom of his mouth.

Jared wrapped his large hands around Jensen's head and lifted his mouth, kissing him deeply. When he broke the kiss he smiled, dark humour twinkling in his eyes. “Such a good little bitch for me, Jenny.”

Unable to stop the ever-present burning in his cheeks, Jensen could do nothing but close his eyes and take a deep breath. He gathered up the shattered pieces of his dignity.

“Are we done?”

Jared laughed, lifting Jensen up onto his feet, manhandling him back into the car. Jensen's eyes blinked rapidly, pulling him out of his post climax fog.

“Wait. What the hell are you doing? Uncuff me.”

“Yeah. The boss'd love that.”

Jensen's eyes widened, understanding hitting him instantly. “We had a deal.”

Viciously cruel laughter was the only answer Jared gave as he quickly buckled Jensen’s seat belt, before dropping his ass onto his heels and grinning. “Did we really?”

With the tightness of the seat belt all but strangling him, despite being no tighter than normal, Jensen’s shoulders and wrists were crying out in protest at the return to the locked down position he’d been in before. Cold shivers of fear cut his chest into bite size chucks, and all he could do was narrow his gaze at Jared.

“You bastard.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “I don't have a choice. I called before I picked you up when you were waiting across the street from the library. They know I've got you.”

Jensen felt more of a fool than he ever had in his life. He should have known better than to trust Jared. He slammed his head back against the headrest. “You liar!”

Jared laughed, patting Jensen’s chest. “Can't fucking believe you actually tried the 'we were like brothers' speech with me.” His voice turned darker, “We were friends once. We were close. I protected you and you protected me. You actually thought that shit would work on me?”

Jensen growled, his shame all but forgotten and his fury mounting. “Would have worked before the Center broke you. Before they turned you into the Center’s good little soldier boy.”

“That's right,” snapped Jared, all levity suddenly gone. Cold hazel eyes narrowed on Jensen. “I am their good soldier. The Center is our family; the only family we'll ever have. You ran away from your family. I follow orders; I do what needs to be done. I never betrayed them; I never turned my back on everything they’d given me. I'm a hunter, I'm a soldier, and I’m a son. You, you're a traitor.”

“Well, congratulations, little soldier boy. Daddy Parker must be so proud.”

The grin that had always sent cold shivers through Jensen slowly curled Jared's lips, pressing the man’s dimples deeper. “More than you know. So proud, in fact, that he's given me a new assignment. Meet your new handler, Jensen. For the rest of your life, you are mine.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming home was everything Jensen knew it would be.

He should have noticed so many things along the greyish blacktop highway. He should have seen the expanse of the soft baby blue sky or the white, cumulus clouds spreading as far as the eye could see, or perhaps the tall swaying oak and maple trees, but his unblinking eyes saw nothing but the cage for which he was heading. His wrists twisted slightly in the handcuffs, just enough so he could feel the agonizing wrench of his shoulders and arms; he gasped softly, almost as if in pleasure, if one were to listen too closely. It was not the pain that brought that gasp but the spontaneous clenching of his mind whirling too far and too fast to find focus and think. That was what he needed to do more than anything else. He needed to think. In the many hours he had sat silently beside his abductor he had done much thinking - not enough to see some inevitable freedom on the horizon but enough to know that it was just, perhaps, over the next ridge. 

He had broken down his entire situation and thought up several possible escape plans. He divided them into categories – plans for before he walked through the Center’s doors and plans for after. Without moving his head, his eyes flickered over to Jared; the man was sitting relaxed, long legs spread and open, one elbow pressed up against the door window with his fingers dangling easily. His other hand was draped over the steering wheel, the backs of his fingernails tapping softly in rhythm with some quiet song on the radio – he looked more like a man on a Sunday drive than a man bringing a prisoner to his doom. Jared was really the one and only thing standing in his way before he walked through the Center’s doors.

Jensen knew, without a doubt, he could not outfight him, could not outrun him, and with Jared not stopping except for gas, and always paying at the pump, Jensen had no way to make any plausible escape plan work. In effect, like much of his earlier life, he was helpless.

Jensen's gaze turned back to his own window, blinking to catch of glimpse what he might not see again for a long time. Trees and mountains in the distance, birds soaring in the air and flaunting their freedom, people with lives and loves, and hopes and dreams. He had no idea how long it would be before any of that touched his life again.

There was one thing he did know. He knew it as well as he knew the pain in his limbs that so many hours in the cuffs had caused him. He knew all those things would be his again one day. Another quick glance and his mind continued clicking the puzzle pieces into place, not all of them, but a fair few. Enough. Right then, at that moment, his best chance of escape lay within the Center itself.

He turned his head towards the window a little more, hiding his face, and made a determined effort not to smile.

 

Jensen’s body stiffened at the first sight of the eighteen story, half block encompassing building. So unassuming in its blandness, surrounded by nothing but cut grass and empty space a quarter mile in every direction – designed so that any visitors, friend or foe, were spotted long before they reached the building.

Jensen knew that behind it, out of view from the road, were a half dozen other smaller buildings - housing, training, technology, labs. He felt his heartbeat quickening, breath hitching just a bit, and he could not take his eyes from it as they drove closer. He forced himself to, though. He forced his eyes to rise and stare at the beige material of the car's upholstery, inhaling deeply through his nose, exhaling slowly through his mouth; he forced his pulse to stop racing, visualizing the control of his body that his mind had always had. Surprisingly, it worked.

“Home sweet home,” smirked Jared, breaking hours of silence.

“Hell sweet hell.”

“Oh, don't be so melodramatic.”

Jensen’s gaze cut to Jared. “I have been kidnapped by a repressed ape, handcuffed, sexually violated, and am about to be handed back to the people who kidnapped me as a child and held me for almost twenty years. I think I am entitled to a little melodrama.”

“Sexually violated?” Jared snickered, “But that was the best part.”

Jensen rolled his eyes.

 

As they pulled up the long curved driveway, Jensen thought of pleading and wondered if Jared expected it. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, not after what had happened earlier, not after having his own body used against him. Especially though, because he could still taste the bitter tang of Jared's come, whether real or imagined. So he remained silent as Jared parked and climbed out. He didn’t move, barely breathing. His car door swung open and Jared's huge paws reached in, one grasping his right bicep, the other a handful of cloth at his chest, and yanked him out, completely ignoring Jensen’s cry of pain. The strength on the man was as annoying as it was staggering and Jensen's feet scrambled under him, trying to find balance. With a slam of the door and a yank of Jensen’s arm, Jared headed forward.

“Wait!” Jensen yelped, digging his heels in.

It was Jared's turn to mockingly roll his eyes. “Oh, come on. You don't think it's a little late to start begging me to let you go?”

“You can't take me in there like this. For crying out loud, at least do up my pants.”

Jared's wide impish grin spread just a little wider, his white teeth shining. He slid his hand slowly down Jensen's chest and cupped his crotch. He had not zipped or buttoned anything when he'd shoved Jensen back into the car and Jensen's shirt was stained with his come. Dread crept through Jensen and his shoulders slumped. “No, Jared. Don't do this. You won. I'm here. I'm not fighting. You get to walk me through there and show everyone that you are the best hunter, that you did what no one else could, not even Ms. Parker. You get to rub it in her face. You get to put me in a cage. But, please. Just give me this.”

A soft rolling chuckle rumbled up Jared's chest as Jared leaned into him. Jensen dropped his gaze, sealing his surrender, and held his breath.

Jared leaned in even closer, bringing his lips to Jensen's ear, “Mm, I like that. Do that again.”

Jensen released his held breath and tried to swallow back his trepidation. “Do what?”

“Beg.”

Jensen's eyes closed tight, his heart pounding. The son of a bitch. Jensen knew it was a stupid thing, nothing more than perceived pride, but he had already lost so much that day. Being marched through the halls was going to be bad enough without having each person he passed, every one of them knowing what Jared had done – no, what Jensen had done, what he had allowed to happen, how low he was willing to debase himself - that was too much. At that moment, it was way too much.

Jensen licked his dry lips, and on his third attempt to speak, a single barely whispered word huffed out, “Please.”

“Please what, Jenny? Be specific now.”

Every cuss word, every insult, every way he could tell Jared to go fuck himself screamed through Jensen's head. “Please, zip up my jeans and button them. Please, tuck in my shirt. Please, Jared.”

Hands slithered up his sides, then down, and Jensen flinched at the touch, but then Jared finally did as asked. When shoving the t-shirt down the front of Jensen’s jeans, he pressed his hand in far (which was not really surprising at all to Jensen) and rewarded himself with a quick grope.

“Good boy.”

Way, way too much.

 

Jensen had been through many different things in his life, good and bad, but there was nothing that could possibly compare to Jared's little victory walk. At first, nothing really happened, almost as if a cuffed man being dragged through the huge lobby was normal business, but that all changed when Jared called out, “Guess what the cat dragged in!”

With that, eyes turned, heads glanced up, and a few people came out of offices. Then the next phase took off as quick calls were made upstairs, mingling almost instantly with surprised gasps and rapidly whispered gossip, and Jared was eating it all up. Cock of the Walk all the way for Jared. His tight grip on Jensen's arm kept him from moving too fast and ensured that Jensen's walk of shame gained the maximum effect, lasting long enough for the private elevator to sink down from the top floor. It arrived with an ominous soft ping.

Jensen flinched, eyes jumping to the elevator and seeing, God, both of them, before quickly looking away. The click of high heels and the softer tapping of dress shoes stopped in front of them. Mr. Parker - six feet four inches, large grey moustache, shiny bald scalp encircled with bushy well-trimmed white hair. Mr. Parker - current head of The Center. Mr. Parker - the man behind Jensen's kidnapping as a child and subsequent incarceration. Standing beside him was his always impeccably dressed, beautiful dark haired daughter. 

A ruckus to the side of them drew Jensen’s attention to the scuffling of a man in his mid-thirties; he was slim and balding, with a pointed face and dark eyes that snapped wide as he gasped out, “Oh my God.” 

The ever articulate Broots, ladies and gentlemen. 

Quick steps and an irritating whine of metal on metal from the other direction and Jensen tamped down an annoyed groan as Mr. Raines and his ever-present oxygen tank moved into the room.

“Well done, son,” bellowed Mr. Parker, his hand patting Jared's shoulder repeatedly. “Knew you could do it. Never doubted you, son.”

Ms. Parker's eyes widened slightly at her father's reaction, flashing in a murderous glare, but a moment later, she had gulped it down, replacing it with a terribly false smile for Jared. “Well, aren't you the teacher's little pet.”

Jensen cocked a brow, drawing her attention, and said, “Replaced so quickly as Daddy's favourite. How do you keep up?”

Jared laughed, as did Mr. Parker. Ms. Parker stepped forward, her eyes locking with Jensen's, her sensual body rolling slightly from side to side as her fingers grabbed the cloth of his t-shirt. She twisted it. Jensen already felt the heat flushing up through his body as she pointedly glanced down at the stains on the shirt. She brought her eyes back to his, a vicious, knowing smirk curling her red-painted lips. “I keep up just fine. Did you...keep...up?”

Jensen released a breath, but before he could say anything, Jared shoved him forward. “So, do we have a cage for our escaped pet, or what?”

Jensen stumbled forward, barely catching the brief conversation behind him between Ms. Parker and Jared - one Ms. Parker obviously didn’t want her father to hear.

“You tapped my phone.” Not a question.

“The best man won, baby. But don't worry, you're still beautiful. You've got that at least.”

She hissed out a growl. “Watch your back, little boy. This is not over.” She spun on her heels and bellowed, “Broots!”

From his corner, Broots all but jumped out of his skin and scampered to her side, rapid angry clicks following her out of the room.

Jared shoved Jensen's arms and pushed him towards the elevator, ignoring Jensen’s quiet grunt of pain. Tears stung the backs of Jensen’s eyes – he knew it'd be days before he got full feeling back in his limbs – as he was shoved into the back. Mr. Parker followed, as did two security guards, and Jared regaled them all with the story of his brilliance in capturing the uncatchable. Jensen ignored it, or tried to, at least. This was the hard part, the next few days; the days when he would have to endure his captivity and play his cards very close to his chest. He forced his mind from it, forced himself to take one step to the side mentally, to be in, but not be part of it as Jeff had taught him all those years ago. He’d worked out math algorithms, listed hockey statistics, and recited the Latin name of all the insects he had seen at the Insectarium last fall when he'd been on his first official date. Turned out, bugs were not a big turn on for most women. He'd found out that night just how lacking his social training had been. It had all worked out fine though, thanks to a wonderful, patient woman. He focused on her for a moment - her perfume, the slight tilt of her head when he'd done something she found cute, the softness of her fingertips on his cheek just before she kissed him. Her taste.

The elevator doors opened and he released a shuddering breath. He could do this. Time to make Jeff proud. Time to keep himself sane.

Sub-basement, of course. The Center was a large building. Each one, like in many countries around the world, was eighteen floors of executives and secretaries, security, maintenance, drone personnel; hundreds of worker bees, who devised, maintained, organized, and logged all information and activities within the Center's interests. They watched governments, chose politicians, helped or toppled regimes. They manipulated stock markets, destroyed competitive corporations, and created illusions of democracy when really money and power were the only true lords and masters in the world. Every corner of the eighteen stories was dedicated to one aspect or another. 

However, if one wanted to truly understand the Center (what it was, what it was capable of), if one wanted to look directly into the heart of the beast itself, one need only enter the sub-basements. Levels upon levels of captivity and coercion, where mistakes disappeared, and ideas, the darkest of inspirations, were born. Twenty-four levels, each a deeper step into the bowels of hell. 

 

Which level Jensen would find himself in, he could only guess. It was important, knowing which one, because then he would know what he was going to have to endure. For that very reason, he’d thought they would hide it from him, keep that information away to torment him just a little longer, but then Jared turned around and smirked, “Twenty-two.”

Jensen gulped.

There were twenty-four sub-basements, the last two handling people who would never see the light of day again. It was the place for dead things, even if they don't know they are dead yet. Twenty-two was usually for interrogations, where captured hostile assets would spend their last few days or weeks, or sometimes even months, before they were disposed of, or traded. It was a place that reeked of blood and death…of suffering. He had referred to being put in a cage, but he had not honestly thought they would put him in an actual cage. The last five floors were fodder for so much of their childhood nightmares, not just his, but Jared's and Ms. Parker's as well. Now they were going to put him in a cage in the middle of the five most feared floors.

He looked up at Jared as he was pulled out of the elevator, their eyes catching, and shook his head slightly. “What happened to you, dude?”

“I grew up.” Jared shoved him hard into thick metal bars, ramming all the air from Jensen's body in a loud grunt. Pain slammed into his shoulders, shifting his body and sending agony down the arms. Again.

Keys released the handcuffs and Jensen yelped as his limbs flopped apart and blood flowed from where it had been stifled for so long. The burning pain shot through him so intensely that his knees buckled. Jared's strong arms caught his limp body and shoved him back up against the bars. He was gasping hard and rolling his shoulders as much as he could. Then suddenly Jared's hands were on him, wrapping around him, and even though he wanted to fight, desperately wanted to throw the man off him, Jensen could barely move as Jared yanked the t-shirt over his head. He cried out as his arms were yanked high, stretching up and sending new misery wrapping around the old agony. Hands on his shoulders spun him around and rammed him back into the bars. He gasped for stolen breath, trying to gain some rhythm, trying to find something to count out in his head, to focus on, something to help him get through this. Before he could, though, Jared’s hand grabbed the buckle of his belt and yanked Jensen hard against him, putting them chest to chest. Jensen's barely working hands could do nothing but clasp weakly at Jared's hips.

His wide, pain filled green eyes locked instantly onto cold as stone hazel ones, and Jensen shuddered, seeing the cruelty in those eyes, the hunger for the suffering the man was causing. Jensen could only shake his head; he couldn't even find the words to articulate what he was thinking at that moment. He was not looking into the eyes of a man, but those of a monster. 

“This is your new home, Jensen. It's where we put betrayers and fools. You'll stay down here until you figure out which one you are.”

Mr. Parker finally piped up, speaking to Jensen for the first time since his return, “When you learn to be a good boy again, we'll let you come back upstairs to work. So however long you want to suffer, you just let us know.”

Jared's hands moved deftly, unbuckling and unzipping, then shoving down Jensen's jeans and boxers at the same time. His shoes were yanked off still tied and his socks were ripped from his feet. In all, he was not being stripped so much as being violated, reinforcing his helplessness. Mr. Parker opened the cage door. Jared's large hand clamped around the nape of Jensen’s neck, pushing his head down until he stared at the floor, yanking him forward and shoving him hard inside. Jensen went flying, landing hard on the stone floor. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, body coiled forward; the cage was a foot too short to stand up in and he found himself pressing backwards until his back met metal bars, his useless fingers touching, trying to hold on to them. His heart was beating so hard his breastbone ached; tears were burning, and threatening another humiliation. He swallowed hard, trying to hold on, to make himself think, to see, to focus, screaming to himself - focus!

“Nighty night,” chuckled Jared. He slammed the door.

“Don't worry,” said Mr. Parker as they started walking back to the elevator. “We'll feed you at least once a day.”

“Probably,” corrected Jared and Mr. Parker joined him in laughing. Jensen counted their footsteps, focusing so damn hard until they disappeared into the elevator. Jensen's back slid down the bars slowly, every ounce of strength deserting him. Seconds later, the lights went out.

Darkness.

Where nightmares come from.

Alone and naked.

Finally, he let the tears flow.

*~*~*

Jensen had no idea how long he was down there, how long he endured. He couldn't count the days; feedings were too erratic, maybe once a day, occasionally twice, sometimes skipping a day (at least he thought so) and it was always dark - a complete absence of light except when it was feeding time. It was always Jared who came, tray in hand with some generic, tasteless food, laughing or teasing as he slid it under the bars of the door. Often when visiting, as Jared called it, he would be eating something like a chocolate bar or a bag of popcorn or, maybe, drinking a cup of coffee. They were juvenile taunts, they both knew it, but that didn't make it any easier for Jensen to hide his reaction. 

His only real saving grace was the water, a constant supply of twenty-gallon jugs. They were difficult to pour for single servings, and even more so as weakness set in from his lack of movement. However, having an unlimited supply of water also gave him the opportunity to attempt cleanliness, not an easy task when one is blind and locked in a five foot-by-five foot cage. He could not stretch out, not that he was moving much anyway. In those first few days, his arms had been useless and later, when they would have done more his body had begun to surrender. Sleeping on a hard cement floor, no pillow but his arm, no blanket to chase away the shivers had taken their toll. While his body endured the pain, his mind endured the lack of stimuli. The first few days, at least what Jensen called days, he had tried to stay awake as much as possible, eyes closed despite the darkness, going over anything and everything he could think of. Running through calculations and mentally reviewing complex historical criteria - names, dates, order of events, long term, and short-term catalysts. Pretty much anything. Then days became weeks, and his thoughts had begun to stumble. His memories blocked. Things he knew that he knew, he could not remember. There were times when a highly functioning brain was an asset, and there were times when all it did was identify what it did not want to see, hear what it did not want to listen to. It hurt deep in his mind. Without light, without noise, without any external stimulation, left Jensen with only his mind, and despite everything it was capable, even he had moments of doubt. 

Then he had screamed, sometimes cried, but he had done neither of those things in a while, another couple of weeks, maybe. For a long time, he tried focusing on an attempted schedule, chores he assigned himself, like finding the hole cut out in the corner for him to relieve himself – obviously personal hygiene was not a priority on this level. He’d then use whatever water was required to clean that corner, listening to the rare sounds as water washed away to somewhere. He tried rationing his food, but Jared seemed to catch onto that very quickly and stopped feeding him until he was sure it was all gone. Or perhaps he was just left a little longer between feedings - an extra half-day or so, he didn't know. Of all that he endured, though, what devastated Jensen the most was how he found himself looking forward to Jared's visits – they were all he had.

They would sometimes talk, not for long, a quarter of an hour at most; pointed conversations, of course, but it was something outside Jensen's head. Often they argued, or yelled, especially the first month or so. Each day ended with Jared asking him if he was ready to give up, and each day Jensen told him to stick his offer where the sun don’t shine. Both men knew it was only a matter of time, but Jensen could not give in. Not yet, not while there was sufficient fight left in him; something that waned daily, if not quicker. He felt it happening. 

After a while, though, he had no idea how long, he just did not even have the energy anymore to make it to the front of the bars to face off with Jared. Instead, he'd stay coiled up in the corner, pressing his back against the bars as if they somehow grounded him, grounded his mind to that place and time. It helped him to not lose himself. He would wrap his arms tightly around his legs and pull them close into his chest, his unshaven scruffy face crunched up between his knees and count his breaths, or, if he was very lucky, he didn’t think at all. It was in this corner that Jared found him.

Light blazed across the room and even with his eyes closed, it blinded Jensen, a whimper gasping out before he could stop it. He squeezed his eyes tighter, pressing the heels of his palms into them. The brightness brought tears and he rubbed his eyes slowly, willing them away as if even a single drop lost was that one last thing he could not afford to lose. He heard Jared's footsteps and did not look up; he had no reason to; nothing had changed, and nothing would, not until he was ready to accept an unacceptable fate. Slowly, he began working the heels of his hands in circles, allowing little slits of light to enter at a time to give his eyes precious moments to adjust. He heard a deep sigh.

“Come on, Jen, how long do you really think you can hold out?”

Jensen cleared his throat, checking to see if it still worked. “Maybe you'll forget about me and let me die.”

His voice sounded as broken as his body felt. It hurt, everything hurt; not even sleep could give him a respite. It never lasting long as he grabbed what he could while nightmares, fears, and cold all battled to aid in his destruction.

“Won't happen. You're too valuable.”

Jensen scoffed derisively. He did not feel very valuable. His mouth felt dry, tongue swollen, and he wondered when the last time was that he drank some water – he couldn’t remember. His cup was a foot away; all he had to do was reach out for it, but he couldn't. He exhaled roughly; he just couldn't find the strength. His head dropped back against the bars.

Jared crouched down, his face a mere four or five feet away, and Jensen knew Jared had seen that, had understood it. “Drink at least.”

Jensen forced his eyes to rise and even focus on Jared, and what he saw was not what he expected. Instead of gloating, warmth filled those hazel eyes, concern, and for some reason it sent a knife into Jensen's chest and he gasped on a sob, tears suddenly threatening. When he found his voice again, he whispered, “Please, just go away.”

There was the longest pause, and Jensen would have thought he was alone if it weren't for the lights. When Jared finally broke the silence, his voice was barely a whisper, “No. Not like this.”

Jared stood, pulling out his keys and finding the right one before slipping it into the lock. Jensen could only watch him, dread, fear, hope, just the ache for human contact all warring within him. He felt his chest hitching as he struggled to hold back tears, but he quickly lost that battle as well, feeling them trickling down his cheeks. Jared's warm palm cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the tear track softly. Jensen sobbed, hating himself for how good it felt, for how needy he felt, how desperate for any touch that he would seek it from Jared. He wished he could stop himself.

“Shh,” Jared hushed softly, raising the cup with his other hand and bringing it to Jensen's lips. “Just drink, okay. Just do that for me.”

Jensen nodded; he could do that, it was okay to do that for Jared. He needed the water anyway, and if drinking it gave him just a little more time being touched, just a little more time being helped, then he could do it, even for Jared. He drank too quickly, coughed, and Jared rubbed his arm through the coughing fit, hushing him softly with gentle, kind sounds that could break his heart as easily as they warmed it. He dropped his face, unable to look up, unable to face his own weakness in the eyes of the man who had inflicted so much, and whimpered. “Please.”

Instead of finding joy in his supplication, Jared just moved closer. “Jen, come on, baby. You can't keep doing this. You have to give in.”

Jensen's head wobbled from side to side as he shook his head. “I can't... Can't be part of ...that.”

“You think you have a choice? How long before old man Parker gets tired of waiting and you end up worse off?”

Jensen couldn't help the tears flowing any more than he could help the frightened keening sound coming from the back of his throat. It couldn't get any worse, it couldn't.

As if reading Jensen's mind, Jared's fingers softly cupped Jensen’s chin and raised it, bringing them eye to eye. “You know it can always get worse. And you know he's not patient.”

Jensen’s whole body trembled, his chin quivering violently in Jared's gentle touch. He fought the tears, fought them as hard as he had fought everything else. Until he couldn't anymore and he sobbed hard, his body dropping forward, boneless and empty, right into Jared's arms. Jared pulled him in, petting him softly, rocking him gently. When he could speak, when sounds other than his cries could form in his mind, all he could do was beg. And he begged Jared.

“Please, please, no more. Make it stop. I'll be... I'll... Please Jay, I can't take it anymore.”

The childhood nickname slipped out easily, so naturally, as it had done many times years ago when he'd been scared. When the adults had pushed too hard, inflicted too much, showed him things no one, especially a child, should ever have to see Jared's scrawny arms would grip him just as tightly and promise to make everything better. 

Adult Jared's arms caressed and stroked and comforted no differently. His voice was deeper, more confident, but still filled with promises. “I can't stop it. Only you can stop it. Just do a couple of jobs for them, easy stuff to start. I'll make sure of it.”

Jensen nuzzled into the crook of Jared's neck, drinking in the warmth and care, the soft words and strength, letting them reassure and absolve him. “I don't know if....”

“Shh,” Jared cooed softly. “I just need you to be good for me. I'll take you out of here; we'll get you all washed up, get you a real bed, real food. You just have to be good for me.”

Jensen whimpered a more needy sound this time, his hands fisting in Jared's clothes as he held onto the words, the hope.

“Does that sound good, Jen? Do you want to be good for me?”

Jensen felt his head nodding even before he could make a decision. Jared's hands softly wiped the tears from Jensen’s cheeks as he rubbed his back gently. “Say it for me. Tell me you want to be good for me. Tell me you want me to take care of you.”

He whimpered again softly, eyes squeezing tight. “Please don't...”

“Do you want to talk about it tomorrow?”

Jensen's entire body clenched, his trembling fists gripping Jared tighter. “No! Please no.”

“Then say it for me, baby.”

Jensen sniffled, burying his face deeper into the warmth of Jared's body, taking deep breaths. He knew full well what was being asked of him, expected, demanded even, and he knew what he would have to give up. He knew exactly which part of himself he would be sacrificing, but he couldn't take another day, not one more, and, God have mercy, he couldn't take it getting worse. He licked his lips, taking in a last cleansing breath to find his voice, “I... I want to be good for you.”

He cried softly, feeling the weight of his surrender. Jared's hand pressed against his chest, as if trying to feel the jackrabbiting rhythm in there. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

There was barely any hesitation for the second sacrifice. “Yeah. Please, Jared.”

“Okay, baby. You know I will. All you had to do was ask. I'll take good care of you.”

Jensen couldn't stop the tears, or the shivering in his body. He'd known, perhaps even before they had shoved him in the cage, that there were no other options; this was the only way he would ever get out. It damn near killed him, like a part of his very soul was being crushed and left in the darkness of sub-level twenty-two, but there was no other way. He turned his head slightly, catching Jared's hand as it caressed his face, and pressed tear stained lips to the man’s palm. His words, barely heard, sifted through the silence, “Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared's giving Jensen a whole new understanding of the expression 'sleeping with the enemy'. Jensen just wishes his body could hate it more.

Jensen awoke with a start three days later to the soft warmth of luxuriously, expensive sheets in a king size bed. He took a moment, nuzzling into the cloud-like pillow, his breathing harsh, as he tried to shove away his dream. He wasn't in the basement anymore; he wasn't locked in the darkness. He was clean now. After Jared had practically carried Jensen upstairs, the man had taken it upon himself to wash him. He’d held Jensen close in the bathtub and wiped away all evidence of the basement. He'd oiled Jensen’s body, put ointment on the sores caused from sleeping on the floor and fed him soup and water while Jensen lay in bed. He’d then pulled Jensen in close as he’d slept, cradling and comforting him through the worst of his nightmares. 

Slowly, hour by hour, Jensen had felt some of his strength return. Mentally, his recovery was not as quick. Nights were bad, but so were the days. Panic would flood him if he was left alone too long, and he would shrink away from dark rooms, only entering when the light was turned on. He needed to feel touch - a warm palm pressed against his back, fingers holding his wrist, anything to ground him and keep him from sinking back into the darkness. He would become quiet when Jared wasn't near, and damn near frantic when he woke up in the middle of the night feeling alone. But since his 'rise from the depths' (as Jared had come to call it), Jared was always there to calm his shivering body. There was no talk of jobs or assignments, no talk of the Center or Mr. Parker. Jensen knew, though, that it was only a matter of time.

Jensen exhaled slowly, bringing his body and mind into sync, and reminding himself that he was in the light. Reminding himself that, for the most part, he was safe. It felt like a lifetime had passed since the day he had been taken down there. Jared told him it had been four months; to Jensen, it felt like forty years. As he went to move, Jensen felt a weight on his waist. He looked down to see Jared's arm wound loosely around him, the man’s palm pressing against his belly.

The bed rolled slightly, Jared shifting behind Jensen and rocking into him; Jensen could feel Jared's body pressing against his through the thin cloth of his boxers and t-shirt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he called on the last vestiges of courage he had left.

“You okay?” came the voice from behind him.

A soft shrug. “Nightmare.”

“They'll pass.”

“I know.”

Soft kisses decorated the back of Jensen’s neck, and then Jared shifted, putting his weight on his own elbow as he kissed Jensen's shoulder. Jared's head dipped, his teeth nibbling up the length of Jensen's throat. Jensen’s breath caught in his chest and he silently cursed his body's reaction as a shiver ran through him. Logically, rationally, he knew his responses were natural; the body, especially after intense isolation, reacted automatically to any kind of physical stimulus. And with Jared's hands almost constantly touching lately, mostly to offer comfort and support and reminders that he was upstairs, it was understandable that Jensen craved their touch. They were, in fact, the hands that had brought him out of that hell and Jensen couldn’t help but find solace in them.

This touching, though, was different; it was more possessive. Despite Jensen's best efforts, he felt his flesh coming alive under it and for a few moments, he gave into it. He wanted the touches, the kisses, the reminders - wanted flesh communicating with flesh. But it was Jared. Jared who had caught him; Jared who had put him down there in that cage in the first place. It became a balancing act, like walking a tightrope that had no end. Jensen felt his body arch, goose bumps tickling across his flesh. He needed to stop this – he needed a distraction.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible as he reached for the edge of the blanket.

Jared's hand wrapped a little tighter around his belly, pulling him closer before Jensen could even start to slip away. Jensen dropped back, weighing his options carefully. He knew how this had to play out. He cleared his throat. “Jared, I'm hungry.”

Jared's mouth moved back up Jensen's neck, nibbling just behind his ear; the teasing touch ignited nerves and sent shivering little pulses of arousal through Jensen. He reached back, placing a hand on Jared's hip and twisting to squirm out of the embrace. Jared gripped hard, his voice a low threatening growl as he warned, ‘Stay.’ 

Jensen froze. Then he let out a shaky breath. “Jared, I don't think...”

“I thought you wanted to be good for me, baby. Was that a lie?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I just... I don't want this.”

Jared's hand dropped lower and wrapped around Jensen's cock - his half-hard cock that suddenly twitched in Jared's grasp. Jensen inhaled sharply, letting out the tiniest whimper as he wrapped his own hand around Jared's wrist to stop him. Jared cooed softly, “Sure you do.”

Tightening his grip on Jared's wrist, Jensen's lithe body twisted as he tried to get onto his back. “I said I don't want this, dammit.”

In an instant, the hand let go of his manhood and wrapped around his throat, driving Jensen back hard into the bed and shoving his chin up. A frightened gasp escaped him just before Jared’s fingers tightened to block his airway. Jensen's eyes snapped wide, panic-stricken and locking with Jared's; he could barely suppress the frightened shiver when he saw the coldness staring back at him.

“What's the game, Jen?” 

Jared dragged a single finger of his free hand down the side of Jensen’s cheek, giving no indication he even noticed when Jensen shook his head quickly. Swallowing hard, Jensen raised his chin and offered his throat, making himself more vulnerable. Jared nodded gently, his grip easing a little - just enough for Jensen to pull in a ragged breath, the ripples of his throat warmed by Jared’s huge palm. 

“No games. I swear.”

“You swear, huh?” Jared’s lips curled into a devious smirk. “And what is your word worth?”

Before Jensen could answer, Jared’s hips rocked into his, sending a dark hunger through both their bodies. Heat rose up through Jensen, through his chest and neck, until he could feel his cheeks warming. Jensen lowered his eyes, desperately hating how easily his body reacted to Jared's unwanted touches. “I've kept my promises. This was not part of the agreement.”

“Of course it was. You promised to be good for me.”

“I never agreed to this.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Jared’s hips ground in again as the pressure on Jensen’s neck tightened. Jensen's eyes squeezed closed, his body arching; the fear, the gripping pain around his throat and the pleasure in his lower body all merged together. The hand’s hold finally eased, leaving Jensen's breath ragged. “Your body is such a slut, even if your mind fights it.”

Jensen shook his head in denial or maybe just to run away from the thought. “But I listen to my mind,” he whispered. His hands finally moved, reaching for the threatening grip, and his own fingers slipped between Jared's hand and his own throat. Jared's left hand grabbed a handful of Jensen’s hair in response, twisting it hard, viciously, and forcing Jensen's body to arch against the body holding him down. Whimpers caught in the new tight grip on Jensen’s throat and he let his panic seep through as Jared sought out his eyes.

“Hands down,” Jared hissed.

Jensen's hands jerked away instantly, and he held them up in surrender, both palms shaking, as he instinctively tried swallowing against the pressure on his throat. When that didn’t get Jared to back off, Jensen obediently moved his hands down onto the bed where they’d been earlier - by his sides.

“Better yet, up. Grab the headboard.”

Jared twisted Jensen’s hair again, sending pinpricks of pain through his scalp, to provoke a more prompt reaction. Jared's grin widened as Jensen obeyed. Easing the pressure on Jensen’s throat, Jared dipped his head and drew his teeth along Jensen's jaw, obviously delighting in the little sounds and shivers the touch inflicted. He moved down to Jensen’s throat, replacing fingers with lips, as he licked over all the places where his fingers had left marks on the skin. He then slowly licked up the side of Jensen's neck, biting his earlobe momentarily before taking it between his lips and sucking the sting away. Quiet whispered words and heated breath taunted Jensen's resolve.

“Let me explain something to you, Jenny,” Jared said, spitting the nick name with utter contempt. “You have two choices, and one of them you will not like.”

Jensen squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the headboard. He opened his mouth to speak, but only ragged pants escaped. Finally, he turned his eyes away, his voice almost flat when he finally spoke, “This is not what I agreed to.”

“Do you want to go back downstairs and discuss it?”

His response, his reaction, was instantaneous. “No.”

“You sure you don't need another day or two?”

Jensen blinked hard, chasing away the sudden burning at the back of his eyes, but he couldn’t help the quiver that shook his voice as he answered, “Please, no.”

Jared's grip on his hair forced Jensen's attention back to him, back to the dark hazel eyes glaring into his own wide green ones. Jensen pressed himself into the mattress, not even bothering to suppress the tremors anymore as he tried to hide from the darkness he recognized in that pupil blown gaze. 

“Then say it to me.”

In that moment, Jensen knew that Jared didn't want him pliant and wanting. Jared didn't want it gentle and kind, because the man took too much pleasure in hurting him, punishing him, in whatever capacity. The stark reality of Jared’s need to punish him burned through Jensen like the fires of Hades themselves; fear and loathing coiled hot in his belly, as screaming shivers of warning ran down his spine and stole away whatever breath he might have hoped to hold onto. He knew what he had to do.

Jensen licked his lips and locked his gaze onto Jared's cold eyes. “I'll be good for you.”

The hand on his scalp eased, but did not pull away, as Jared’s tongue flickered around the shell of Jensen’s ear. “Will you be a good boy for me?”

Jensen closed his eyes and stifled a growl. No matter what he gave, no matter how much he gave of himself, Jared always wanted more. And he always took it, stole it away, and Jensen had almost nothing to fight him with, nothing to protect himself.

He nodded.

The grip on his hair jerked, the message clear, and Jensen added quickly, the words bitter on his tongue, “I'll be a good boy for you.” 

Jared purred, shifting over him and ducking down his head to Jensen’s other ear to taunt the nerves to life as easily as he had done that first day. Jared's mouth feasted on Jensen’s flesh - on his ear, his earlobe, that small pulse point just below, down his throat. Jensen hated it. He hated how helpless he always felt around Jared, how powerless. He hated how well Jared knew his body – all his most sensitive spots, and his secret needy noises. He hated how Jared used them, how he used Jensen's own flesh against him to get him to beg for more.

“Think you still want to be my little whore, Jenny. Is that what you want? Is that why you never found someone special when you were out in the world? Someone just for you; someone for you to spread and beg for. Were you waiting? Waiting for my cock, waiting to be my bitch again?”

“God, Jared,” gasped out. Which was no answer, but with how those words pulsed through him, like heated weights all their own sending ripples of electricity to all the wrong places, it was all Jensen could give. 

Jared growled deeply, hungrily, obviously pleased with whatever he’d heard in Jensen’s answer. His hips shifted from side to side, slowly opening Jensen’s thighs up more, so he could sink into the vee of Jensen’s spread legs. Then when Jared’s hips rocked down again, it was cock against cock, the flesh separated by two very thin pairs of cotton boxers. Jensen stared up at the ceiling, gulping in breath after breath, fighting his body, demanding control back. He felt like the desperately needy teenager he’d been all those years ago, his body once again being manipulated and used against him. Jared had had years to learn Jensen’s body back then, years to teach himself as he took advantage of Jensen’s vulnerability, and Jared was doing it again. He was taking what had not been freely offered, but, instead, bartered for and sacrificed in a bid for freedom. Maybe that did make Jensen a whore.

Jared's tongue dropped to the hollow of Jensen’s neck, seeking out those places he knew too well, and slithered up to the tip of Jensen's chin as a chiding laugh rumbled from his chest. “Do you think you can stop me from making you scream?”

Jensen swallowed nervously, “No.”

“Yet you're still fighting me.”

“I'm not.”

Jared pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at Jensen, the wide coiled smirk on his face telling Jensen that Jared knew he was lying. He dropped a hand down, slipping it into Jensen’s boxers, and found his hardness. Jensen's hips bucked up into his grip, as he gasped loudly. Experienced, talented fingers teased out moans and drops of precome.

“Do you remember the first time I called you a slut?”

Jensen’s attention shot back to Jared’s face, the memory coming to the forefront of his mind, and with it, a flash of shame. And lust. 

The glint in Jared’s eyes told Jensen his reaction was not missed. “You were what? Sixteen? I’d already licked and kissed every part of your body, but you were always so shy with mine. It was so pretty the way you would blush when I made you jerk me off. And the way you would bite your lip when I made you come, as if, somehow, keeping it quiet made it less real. Always so fucking reserved. Remember?”

Jensen couldn’t answer, didn’t want to, but the nervous ripple of his throat as the images, memories, flashed through his mind was enough of an answer. Jared dropped down, nose nuzzling against Jensen’s cheek and pressing it to the side so he could nibble and chew the lobe. Jensen’s eyes flickered closed as a shiver of pleasure ran through his body. He tilted his head more, opening himself up. At this point, only a part of his surrender was to keep Jared distracted from the past. The soft amused chuckle breathed into his wet skin told Jensen that Jared knew it too. 

“It just slipped out, you know, that first time. You looked so beautiful, all spread out for me on your bed. So debauched - your cock hard in my hand, and your lips all swollen and red from kissing. I stopped to catch my breath, to just look at you, and you licked your lips. And the word just came out. I called you a slut. And do you remember what happened when I did?”

The tick in Jensen’s jaw betrayed how hard he was clenching it, as if that alone could hide him from the memories. There were downsides to an eidetic memory, and this was one of them – the things that he wanted to forget, he never could. He couldn’t escape them any more than he could escape Jared’s watchful stare. 

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you did that day when I called you a slut.”

Jensen’s eyes closed as he answered. “I came.”

“Yeah. You came. You came hard.”

“I…” began Jensen, trying to find words, a defense, something. “Only because you had kept me on edge for so long.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you don’t get to hide behind that bullshit. You came hard because it turned you on. It felt shameful and it felt good. You didn’t have to be so perfect. You didn’t have to think. I took you out of your sterilized little world and made you feel dirty, and you fucking loved it. You felt soiled and bad; you felt alive for the first time in your life with me.”

Jensen didn’t speak; he couldn’t respond to Jared’s accusations because there was some truth in them, but not in the way Jared thought. Jared could romanticise their teenage fumbling all he wanted, but it hadn’t been like that. Jensen should know, he’d spent many hours over the last decade making himself see it for what it had really been. And the truth was that he had been lonely, empty, and so very easy for Jared to manipulate.

Jared dipped down for soft kisses, nibbling gently on Jensen's bottom lip a moment before slipping his tongue between his lips. As his hand stroked Jensen’s thickening cock, Jared deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening with the increasing passion on which he fed from Jensen’s mouth. Within minutes, Jensen was grinding up, kissing back and offering his body; he was thrusting his cock forwards to slide through Jared’s fist, the way slicked only by his own juices. When Jared pulled back from the kiss, they were both breathless, and Jensen's eyes were blown wide with need, with a hunger.

Jensen's body trembled beneath Jared, overwhelmed and unsure. He'd known that he'd have to surrender, to give in to Jared, because he just couldn't handle going downstairs again, not yet. He needed more time to recover, to plot, to put plans into action; he just needed a bit more time. He would buy that time. He tilted his chin, surging up to Jared’s mouth and claiming it for himself as a momentary rush of something passed through him - acceptance, perhaps, courage even. He licked deeper into Jared’s mouth then, their tongues battling for dominance. 

The hand’s grip on his hair tightened, locking him in place, and Jared pulled away. Hungry eyes locked on to his and Jared hissed through kiss-swollen lips. Breathless, voice rough and wrecked, he said, “You take it. You take what I give you.”

The dark, rumbling voice sent shudders through places Jensen was not ready to admit to and he pressed his hips up, thrusting his cock deeper into Jared's grip. He then ground back against Jared's hardness and the man groaned a split second before his lips curved into that bastard grin. “Yeah, I knew you needed to be put down.”

Jensen's eyes flared, the heated anger in them flashing, and Jared’s grin spread wider. “You think I can't feel you writhing under me? Were you ever this hard when you were out there getting yourself a little pussy and telling yourself what a man you were?”

Jared's laughter and the glint in his eyes were more degrading than the words themselves. Jensen clenched his teeth and opened his mouth to spit his own venom, but the cruelty that flashed in Jared's eyes shut Jensen up faster than a hand over his mouth. Ashamed, he turned his eyes away. Jared's palm twisted around the head of Jensen’s cock, driving another grunt of pleasure from Jensen that made Jared laugh. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

Jensen exhaled a shuddering frightened breath. He hadn't lied when he'd told Jared that no one had been inside him in the entire year he'd been outside. What he hadn't told him, however, was that no one had been inside him since, well, since Jared. The last time he'd allowed anyone to fuck him – he almost laughed at the thought that he'd allowed it. This time could be different; this time he was not a lonely, terrified, teenager under an aggressive, more experienced boy. No, this time he knew what to expect, he knew what to expect specifically with Jared. This time, he decided, he would not just take it.

He shifted, thighs parting to embrace Jared, and rolled his hips. His mouth reached for Jared, seeking out his flesh to tease, as his hands dropped down, slipping around Jared's neck and pulling him closer. Before he could angle Jared where he wanted him, though, Jared's hands grabbed at his wrists and shoved them back up over his head, pinning them to the pillow above him. With a rather cruel drive of hips, Jared bit down hard into the flesh at the bottom of Jensen's throat. Jensen yelped, body bucking up, fighting to move away from the cruelty of the attack. The biting eased off and Jared soothed over the teeth indentations with his tongue. “Do you want me to cuff you again?”

Jensen shook his head, gasping through the mingled sensations, not trusting his voice, and grabbed the headboard again. Jared rewarded him by dropping his hand back onto Jensen’s cock, then sliding down, cupping his balls and tickling at his perineum. Jensen growled out, “fuck” in the most tortured aching voice, barely able to muster more.

Jared brought his other hand up and shoved two fingers into Jensen's mouth. Jensen wrapped his lips around them, twirling his tongue. It was more habit than anything that got him doing what Jared wanted. He licked at Jared's saltiness and unique flavour. He felt the dread rippling through him, building, and sucked the fingers in deeper, trying to wet them with as much saliva as possible. When Jared pulled them out, Jensen released a small cry of protest, only realizing then how desperately his body was trembling. “No, Jared. Don't!”

Jared's eyes found Jensen's; they were full of light and mischief as the wet fingers slid under Jensen’s boxers to play - the pads pressed against the hole, swirling, teasing the rim. Jensen's feet hit the bed hard, his hips bucking up, not in pleasure or passion, but in fear. “No, damn you! Not again. Not spit only.”

Jared shoved Jensen's body down onto the bed using his own weight, leaving just enough room to worm his wet fingers between them. The middle finger pressed into the tight muscle of Jensen’s hole, right up to the second knuckle. Jared's mouth gaped as if it was him being penetrated - a mockery of shock and surprise that quickly turned into a nasty grin. Jensen's body clenched against the stretch. It wasn’t painful, not yet, but the threat was there. He panted hard, his chest heaving, “Please.”

The finger twisted slightly, turning. “What will you give for me to use lube?”

A second finger tapped against his opening, threat made, and Jensen didn't hold back anymore. He growled out, all fear and fury and frustration. “I'll do what you want, I won't hold back. I'll be good for you, I promise - a good boy, a good slut. I'll beg for it. Please, Jared, fuck, please, just...not again. I haven't let anyone else since. I've been too afraid.”

The single digit moved slowly, pressing all the way in; Jared was obviously enjoying the panic trembling through Jensen and Jensen didn't do anything to hide it. In fact, he offered it up like a sacrifice, surrendering the honest consequences, the memory of the pain still haunting him from years ago and the fear he'd lived with ever since.

“No one else has ever been inside you but me?”

Jensen’s breath hitched as he let Jared's words sink in, not sure why that would be so important to the other man. Wasn't it supposed to be the leftover trauma, the nightmares he had inflicted, that Jared relished? Then Jensen got it, and he realized, perhaps, that was more information than he should have ever revealed. Silently cursing himself for giving yet another thing to the bastard, he shook his head slightly. “Nobody.”

Jared’s smile stretched out, purely predatory and possessive, as he slowly leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of Jensen's ear and whispered, “Mine.”

Jensen shuddered; there was nothing else he could do. He closed his eyes and sealed his own fate. “Yours.”

The kiss came without warning, deep and passionate; it was possession and power, claiming and surrender, and Jensen held nothing back as he let Jared take it all from him. When they broke apart, Jensen felt bruised and swollen. Jared's mouth instantly sought out Jensen’s flesh, marking it with bruises and bites - decorating his body with them. Only when Jared was satisfied that his claim would be visible did he sit up, slowly sliding his finger free.

“Okay, baby. You have been good for me, so far. You kept your hands up and you aren't fighting. It'll be better this time.”

Jensen exhaled in relief, nodding softly. Okay, he could do this.

Jared sank back to kneel between Jensen’s spread thighs, snapping open the little bottle of lube. Jensen watched as Jared poured the clear gel onto his fingers. Jared chuckled, “Love that look you get in your eyes when you're like this. So grateful. So frightened.”

Jensen sucked in his bottom lip; there was no reason to answer because Jared was right. Denying it would do nothing, and admitting it would mean too much.

“This would work better if you took your clothes off,” Jared smirked.

“You haven't told me I can lower my arms.”

Jared purred deeply, leaning in and licking his way into Jensen's mouth. “You are so delicious when you're obedient. Go ahead. Then put them back up.”

It was not easy to remove his own boxers without acknowledging the sticky wetness covering the crotch and his rock hard dripping cock, but Jensen just about managed to keep his attention focused on Jared. He watched as the man’s fingers twirled and writhed together, coating and soaking, until each finger was glistening. He couldn't look away, knowing where those fingers were going, where this was leading, and despite everything, he felt his cock twitch at the erotic sight of them. He ditched his t-shirt to the floor beside him before lying back down and taking a series of controlled breaths. He tried to prepare himself, to remind himself that he didn't want this. It was a lot harder to put his hands back up, knowing that it would be his responsibility to keep them in place, accepting the consequences; that once he had them back in place, he would not get to release them again without Jared's say so. Still, he did it. The alternative, fighting Jared and being fucked dry, was not acceptable. He was just buying time, he reminded himself. This was a decision based on logic and that thought gave him strength to reach up and wrap his hands around the slats of the headboard. 

“Spread your legs. Wider. Tilt your hips forward.”

There was something clinical about Jared's first words, his first touches, and it reminded Jensen of doctor visits. That lasted up until the second finger slid into him and he gasped loud, his hips jerking up off the bed an inch or so. Jared's free hand immediately pressed on Jensen’s belly to bring him back down as the man ordered, “Be still.”

Jensen blinked slowly. “It didn't hurt. I thought it would hurt.”

Jared arched a brow. “That's because I'm being good to my boy. You behave and this is what happens. Misbehave and...” He twisted his fingers sharply, opening Jensen too fast, too suddenly, and sending searing heat through the delicate flesh. Jensen jolted up, yelping in pain even as Jared pressed him down again. It took a moment for the pain to ebb away again.

“You didn't need to do that,” Jensen growled through clenched teeth. “I'm doing what you want.”

“Just a reminder.”

Jared's fingers scissored slowly taking his time. Long minutes of turning, twisting fingers opening him up carefully, and once the initial pain passed, Jensen could feel the mild stimulation, though it was nothing he would really want to do again. Then Jared's wrist twisted, his fingers seeking out and finding that little pleasure spot, and a sizzling shock blasted through Jensen. He gasped out, hips driving him onto the fingers. All memory of pain vanished as pleasure exploded through his body a second time. 

“Oh Christ!” He’d forgotten this. How the hell had he forgotten what Jared could do with his fingers?

“Like that, do you? I can feel your ass clenching on my fingers like a hungry cunt.”

A third finger pressed into him and Jensen stopped holding back; he started doing as he had promised and surrendering to the pleasure as Jared tortured and teased his prostate. He'd known about that special little spot, Jared had play with it before, fingering him open and just to watch Jensen squirm on his fingers, but it seemed that Jared had learned some new tricks in the decade since they’d last been together. It used to be nice, just nice, but this - he’d never experienced anything like what Jared was inflicting on his body. He writhed, unable to keep himself still, panted and moaned, held together only by those long, talented fingers fucking deeper inside him. Jared's other hand pressed his hip to the bed. His own hands turned white knuckled as he clenched the wooden slats tighter. His body sweat glistened in the light, a single drop slowly slithering down his neck to pool into the dip of his throat; his thighs shook, clenching as much as they could around Jared's body, as he thrust himself up into each new touch. His cock, hard and untouched, ached for even the barest contact, but he could do nothing but grind down onto those fingers.

“So beautiful,” whispered Jared on a soft breath, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying the words out loud. The sound of it, like a prayer, sent a very different kind of shudder through Jensen’s body, and drove his cock to throb painfully in need. 

Jensen's head pounded back against the pillow, jerking against the headboard. “Jared, come on!”

“What do you want, Jen? Tell me what my desperate little slut wants.”

Breathless, Jensen’s eyes screwing closed as a shiver ran through his body at Jared's words. He gasped out, “Just do it.”

“Do what?”

The fingers, all three, pressed in as deep as they could go, went still. Jensen's hips bucked up and he whimpered, throwing his head back again and forcing out words that cost him yet another piece of his broken soul, “Fuck me!”

The fingers moved teasingly over his prostate again and again, their touch too light and nowhere near enough. “Beg for it.”

There was no getting out of it, no hiding from it and definitely no faking it, so Jensen reached inside of himself once again to drag the words up. But, in the end, as they burst out of him, he found them almost easy to concede. Whether sacrifice or gift, they were his to give. “Please, Jay, fuck me. I need you inside me. Please!”

Jared’s moan, filthier than anything Jensen had ever heard, barely preceded the fingers thrusting back in. They drove the pleasure higher and Jensen couldn’t help but cry out as he gave in, feeling a strange kind of freedom in it. Letting nothing but his own body's desires, its reactions to Jared's demands, dictate his actions, was somehow liberating. The pressure on his hip vanished and he heard the rustling of clothes as Jared shoved his boxers down one handed, followed closely by the crinkle of foil.

Jensen’s full attention remained on the fingers fucking him ruthlessly until Jared slipped them out. He did nothing to hold back a desperate hungry whine then, only to be rewarded by Jared's weight pressing him into the mattress a moment later. Jared’s hand gripped his hair, pulling the strands hard until Jensen's eyes opened again; Jensen’s body writhed beneath Jared’s as their gazes met.

“Mine, Jen. You want me, don't you?”

“Yes. Yours. Do it. Fuck me. Please.”

Jared needed no more encouragement and he pressed into Jensen, his cock-head stretching Jensen open even wider than the fingers had and sending a deep burn flashing through Jensen’s lower body. Unlike Jensen's first (and last) time, Jared did not drive in, did not rush it; instead, he slid in slowly, making sure that Jensen felt every second of it. Every tiny millimetre felt like inches of hard meat until Jared was balls deep inside him. Jensen's head snapped back, hands jarring the headboard and legs wrapping around Jared until his heels dug into the other man's thighs. “Oh, God! Move goddammit!”

Jared chuckled, dark and as breathless as Jensen felt. He pulled out almost as slowly as he had entered then thrust in hard, forcing out an open mouthed gasp from Jensen. Jensen thrust up, thrashing, as he tried to gain more friction for his own cock between their two bellies. “Come on!” he begged. “Please, I'll be good. I will. I'll be so good.”

He was babbling, but it felt good and it felt free, and it was good enough for Jared. Jared grabbed Jensen's cock, gripping it tight and pulling hard - doing so much more than Jensen had ever done to himself, those calloused, cruel fingers harsher than his own, and it felt incredible. He cried out, hips thrusting up into Jared’s palm and his ass clenching tight around the large cock splitting him open, as he came. White salty tendrils shot out of him with more force than he'd ever known, over and over, as his toes curled and his thighs squeezed around Jared. His body shook violently, clenching even harder around the cock inside him, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt Jared's body stutter. A moment later, he heard Jared curse out his name loudly as Jensen’s own vision filled with numbing white spots. 

When he blinked back into consciousness, Jared’s huge sweaty body was crushing his, and the man was panting just as hard as he was. Jensen's compressed lungs screamed for air and he moaned, “Can't breathe.”

Jared pushed up on shaky arms, hesitating long enough to look down at Jensen, his pleased, hazel eyes shining. “Welcome back.” 

Jensen felt an embarrassed flush crawl up his body and colour his face; he blinked rapidly a few times before he turned his head away to hide his eyes, and the shame that Jared would find in them. Jared gripped the edge of the condom and slid out of him, leaving Jensen feeling suddenly empty, and bombarded with a multitude of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. Jared tossed the used condom into the trash and dropped down onto the bed beside Jensen, laughing.

“Too late to play the blushing virgin, Jen. You showed your true self.”

Jensen's hands slid away from the headboard, his fingers aching from gripping it so hard and he brought them to his chest, using his elbows and shoulders instead to turn him on his side, away from Jared, wincing as a sliver of pain shot through his ass and up his spine.

Jared's body twisted and wrapped around Jensen's, his fingers playing in the coating of cooling come on Jensen’s belly and chest and rubbing it into his flesh. “Now you get it, Jen. You belong to The Center. You belong to me. When you fight, you will get hurt. When you give in, you will feel good. Stop fighting. You're only hurting yourself.”

In a voice so empty and void, so broken and tired, Jensen whispered, “I know.” 

They were quiet for a long time; Jared had made his point, and Jensen had endured, accepted, and shown that he'd learned it. It was enough. Jared patted his ass, sending shockwaves of pain through his stretched and sore ass. 

“Go get cleaned up.”

“May I take a long bath?”

“Sure, I need to fill out some reports and give the old man an update.” Jared pushed up off the bed, grabbing Jensen's t-shirt to wipe himself down. Once he was dressed, he stopped in front of Jensen who had done nothing more than sit up and plant his feet on the floor at the side of the bed. His head was bowed low and his unseeing eyes were barely blinking. Jared crouched before him, lifting his chin. It took several blinks for Jensen to be able to focus on the other man.

Jared's voice was gentle when he spoke, “It's going to get easier now.”

Jensen's throat rippled, but no words came out. He just dropped his eyes and bowed his head again. Jared stood up and walked away, pausing at the door to punch in the code to unlock it. For the first time since his arrival, Jensen didn't even try to peek. Jared spoke once more before leaving, “I'll be back in about an hour. I want you clean and dressed; we have things to do.”

Jensen just nodded, obeying, and carefully pushed off the bed; he stepped lethargically towards the en-suite bathroom, his arms wrapped tightly around his naked body. He felt Jared's eyes on him for a long moment, and then he heard the door shut behind him as his new handler left. Jensen stepped through the bathroom door and closed it behind himself.

He blinked, letting out a tension filled breath, and allowed himself to drop back against the bathroom door. His heart was suddenly pounding, smashing against his ribs, and it took a few moments to get it under control. Once he had, Jensen stepped over to the bathtub. Gone were the zombie-like movements of before as he turned the taps, barely paying attention to the temperature. His eyes, instead, roamed over the ceiling, reminding himself of the path he'd need to take. He'd tested the panels the night before, just quickly, and he'd found the one that would lead to the heating ducts. When the tub was filled enough to satisfy the microphones he was sure were hidden somewhere, he sank his body into the tepid water; it took only moments for him to wash himself clean of come and sweat and the smell of Jared. As quietly as he could so as not to reveal his actions, he exited the tub and dried off. Then he pulled out the clothes he'd hidden behind the toilet the night before - sweat pants, t-shirt, boxers and socks; the few things he'd dared to steal away. Once dressed, he climbed onto the toilet, pushed the panel in the ceiling aside and climbed up.

Phase One…no, actually, Phase Two down. One was surviving the basement, so this was the second phase. It wasn't the most solid plan he’d ever come up with, but it was definitely workable. Now it was time for Phase Three.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen's got a plan. He's always got a plan, which was why the Center wanted him so badly. And it's about time Jared realizes Jensen's plans do not include him.

Jared stepped up to his full height, six foot four and a smidgen, pull back his broad shoulders, rolling the tension out of them so his arms could swing easily and he stepped through the large double doors into the elegant, and he has to admit overly extravagant office. He'd never liked ostentatious, felt only those who were insecure or lacked elsewhere need to show off that much, but he schooled his thoughts, his impressions and his smile. The balding white haired man sitting behind the desk, despite his feeble, pathetically unmuscled and untrained body, had more power in his hands than Jared could ever hope to gain in a gym or training field. The man was also the closest thing Jared ever had to a father, except for, well, his actual father – the man who either threw him away, gave him away or let him be taken. Weak. Jared felt no loss there.

“Ah, Jared, my boy. Come in, come in.”

Jared's smile softened, letting his dimples show and bowed his head slightly, forcing him to look up to the man who now stood at his desk. Jared knew what he displayed, innocence, vulnerability, little boy eyes. Hidden behind a gentle smile and subservient behavior was his true self, not that Mr. Parker didn't know the true Jared. Hell, he'd created Jared, practically sculptured his psyche with his own hands, but his display was expected. Many feared Jared, in fact, most in the Center feared him much more than Ms. Parker and many said he was feared second only to the old man himself.

“Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

Mr. Parker waved a hand through the air magnanimously, always the host, and pointed to a chair. “So, are you enjoying your new little project?”

The gentle smile coiled slowly, lips widening into a smirk and he could do nothing to avoid the glint in his eyes from showing. He licked the smirk from his lips. “Well worth the wait.”

“So everything's going according to plan?”

“It's as you said back then, sir. Train 'em while they're young and own 'em forever. He hates it, he hated ever fucking second, every single time I touch him, but his body loves it.”

“Ha!” barked out Parker's laugh. “I knew back then I could count on you, boy. The strongest one I ever had. He might have the grey matter,” he paused, making his point by tapping a finger to his own temple, “But you always had the smarts.”

“That's because he never had to deal with failure and pain, like I did.”

“Ah, yes. That was terrible business that. You were too young when you went through that training.” Parker's face crunched slightly and if Jared didn't know the man so well he might think it was compassion for him, but he did know better. Jared did not hesitate. He rolled his shoulder dismissively. “Made me who I am today. No harm, no foul.”

Parker watched him a moment then he let out another laugh. “That's right, son.”

Jared ducked his head, feelings washing through him at the endearment, warmth tinting at his cheeks.

“But tell me something, are you sure? You've had him just over a month. That's not very long to break someone.”

Jared inhaled deeply, expanding his chest as he thought it through. This was the first time he'd had such one-on-one in the breaking of a Center’s asset, his first chance to step into his role as a handler, something he trained for and always wanted, but breaking someone was never easy and Jensen was anything but easy.

“Well, he's not completely broken yet, but he's well on his way.” he began slowly, bringing his gaze back to the old man, showing he had nothing to hide. “He's terrified of the basement, still cries out in the dark, I have him convinced you were ready to make it worse – both options are still on the table should he balk - add the control and confusion of a man who thinks he's straight being used by me, basically raped and his body reacting as it was trained when younger.” He paused a moment. “Jensen's smart, but he's scared. More than he ever has been. I mean for Christ's sake, y'all but kissed his ass night and day before he took off and even out in the world he always was in control. Control belongs to me now.”

The old man arched a brow and for the quickest moment the flicker of something darker glinted cold in his eyes, a reminder of which man truly has the power in the room. Jared spoke quickly. “You know what I mean. He belongs to you; I'm just the weapon you're using to manipulate him.”

Parker nodded and in a blink his wide, almost goofy, eyes were back over that ridiculous mustache. “Good. Very good. I know you've been waiting for him for a long time. I'm sure you'll make me proud.”

Jared couldn't contain his reaction to the words and his face lit up, the smile no different from when he was a boy, eager and happy to please. “You should have seen him, sir, couldn't even look me in the eye. Begging me to fuck him, begging me to get him off, and even asking to take a bath. Sweet submission.”

“Excellent. I have a job for him. You think he's ready.”

“I'll make him ready. Just let me know....”

Words cut off as the security klaxon screamed through the air. Two heads snapped up as one, as if they could see the sound or what caused it. Parker grabbed at his phone, punching in a code to security as Jared bolted from his seat. “What the fuck!”

*~*~*

Jensen's fingers slipped into the grating at the end of the last tunnel, he'd been crawling around heating ducts for the last forty minutes with the exception of his two stops and he was dirty, knees stinging from crawling but he was done. Carefully and as quietly as possible he slipped his body under the grating, twisting onto his belly, gripping the edge hard, fingertips digging in holding his full weight, arms stretched out as far as possible and for a moment he dangled, calming the sway of his body, then dropped down the last few feet, stocking feet landing silently. Tiptoeing quickly to the door, he stole a quick peek then leaned back against the wall beside it. His heart pounded, his nostrils burned in a need to sneeze from the ducts' dust and his body complained from so much movement after a month of inactivity. He had a couple of minutes, well, not really, but he needed them, if for no other reason than to quiet his heartbeat and control the adrenaline. Gaze momentarily strayed to the window and he paused, just the sight of it helped to calm him. Freedom so close, just on the other side of the bulletproof glass. Fresh air as opposed to what he was breathing for the last month, life was just on the other side. It wasn't time, though. Not yet. As much as he wanted to run, bolt, find a door and escape Jensen knew he'd never make it. Jared might think he was broken, he might even be able to fool others, but security was anything but lax. Even if he could make it out the window or out some door, he would never make it off the grounds. That would take much more planning than he'd had time for, and more tools than he had access to at this point.

He stole another peek out the door. Hallway was empty. It wouldn't be for long.

Jensen slipped out of the room, kept his body twisted, eyes flickering behind him ever few moments to watch his six, one hand trailing softly against the wall and he paused at the opening of another room. After checking carefully and seeing no one, he scooted pass, pausing again at the last door. It led to the stairs and below him the garage. Cars, perhaps escape, but it wasn't Jensen's goal, not yet. His stocking feet were silent as he moved quickly, hesitating one last time at the door to the garage. Taking a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, and mentally preparing himself for what was to come. He opened the door and took off at a full speed. Not three steps in did he hear the quick bustling of security and the screams for him to stop.

 

By the time Jared and Mr. Parker arrived with another handful of security Jensen was on his knees, his hands raised loosely in surrender, three security officers surrounding him, guns drawn. Two others lay unconscious on the floor. Jensen got a few good licks in. Jared's feet were loud as he rushed over, near stomping. His eyes blazed in that pure anger that Jensen had only seen a few times, fury and promises of pain staring daggers at Jensen. Jensen couldn't help but swallow back his nervousness, feeling the height of his captor, the strength rippling through clench shoulders, muscles straining against the white dress shirt. The guard behind grabbed at Jensen's arm, yanking him up to his feet to face Jared and Parker but Jensen wasn't ready yet, so instead he rose and grinned over his shoulder at the guard, nodding his chin to the trickle of blood from the larger man's nose.

“Might want to get that checked out. Tried not to break it, but, man, you weren't exactly helping the situation.”

The butt of the gun pounding into his kidney and he groaned out, eyes rolling back and struggled to stay on his feet.

“Report.” demanded Mr. Parker deceptively calm.

“We caught him trying to hot wire a car, sir. Had a little scuffle.”

Mr. Parker's glance barely acknowledged the two downed men or the few obvious wounds on those standing. He did tilt his head to look intently at the small scrap on Jensen's right cheek. Jensen remained stock still, eyes locked and glaring at the man behind most of the misery of his life.

“Where did you think you were going?” Parker finally asked.

Jensen shrugged noncommittally. “Such a nice day I was thinking a drive in the country.”

Parker's left brow cocked, amusement filling his face but not the cold eyes and he slowly turned to Jared, moving closer to getting in his face. “I believe your assessment was off.”

There was no mistaking the disappointment in his tone and for the first time Jared's eyes moved away from Jensen, he glanced at the floor, chastised, almost childlike. Jared's eyes glanced up before his head moved, finding Jensen behind the old man, then he cocked his head, studying his captive. Jensen back clenched under the scrutiny, locked for a split second under the gaze, and despite himself, felt tightness in the bottom of his belly. No one had ever looked at him like that, such intense consuming eyes seeing nothing else, feeling for that briefest second as if there was no one else in the room. His lips parted slightly to help his sudden breathlessness. Jared's lips spread out, one side curled into a smirking grin. He'd seen the reaction – dammit, Jensen needed to be better than this – but he could turn his failure into something else. Jared's movements were cat-like, as many of his actions were, fluid and graceful, precise steps, glances, touches and when Jared stopped in front of him, leaning in, Jensen forced himself to tighten his shoulders, dipping his head down.

Jared leaned in, heat of his body so close, his aftershave drifting through the air and filling Jensen's nostrils, and he brought his lips to Jensen's ear, whispering. “I broke you.”

For the quickest second Jensen closed his eyes, knowing far more than anyone how close that was to being true. Then it was his turn to grin and he played it across his lips before he peered up. He let the mocking words trickle out. “Please, Jared, I'll be good. I'll be good.”

His head raised slowly, his feigned submission seeping away, until he faced Jared, watching the smile fade from the other man's face, realization slowly sinking in. It was more empowering than anything Jensen had ever known and he pushed further. The cockiness in his grin lighting the fire in his green eyes.

“Please Jay, fuck me, I need you inside me. Please!” he ridiculed then threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I can't believe you fucking fell for that!”

His laughter filled the room, bouncing off the high ceilings.

A sudden growl screamed from Jared's throat as his hand flew, backhanding Jensen hard, Jensen's body twisting and he would have fallen had it not for the guard behind him. Neither he nor Jared saw signal Mr. Parker made to the men around them; it could have been a giant neon sign, neither would have noticed, but suddenly guards were holding Jared back. Jared pressed hard but didn't fight.

“You're a fucking liar!”

Jensen dabbed at his bottom lip with the back of his hand, wincing at the split, seeing the dab of blood, swallowing back the copper taste in his mouth. He pulled himself up, trying to shake off the guard holding him. “You weren't even close.”

“You're a fucking liar, Jensen. I felt it. I felt you. You gave it all to me.”

Jensen met him, eye-to-eye, glare to glare, fiery passion to fiery passion and was content to write off his shudder as adrenaline and definitely not to any truth that might or might not be in those words. “You felt what I wanted you to feel.”

“You'll be feeling what I want you to feel soon enough, bitch. I'm not done with you.”

Mr. Parker stepped in, pressing a palm against Jared's heaving chest. “Son, you need to calm down. Seems Jensen was a little trickier than you are ready for.”

Jared's head spun to Parker, eyes widening. “No!”

“This was too much for your first. We'll find you someone else. You do much better out on assignment. Play to your strengths, son.”

“No! You said he was mine!”

“Enough. You're embarrassing yourself. Do not embarrass me. Now go to your office, I'll clean this up and meet you there later.”

The low growl rumbled through his chest and his nostrils flared, eyes jumped back to Jensen and for a moment Jensen thought Jared would fight, balk, something, but instead he jerked his body snapping his shoulders until the two guards holding him let go. He spun on his heels and stomped off.

Jensen couldn't resist. “Sending the naughty boy to his room, gotta love that.”

Jared didn't turn back; instead, he slammed the door behind him. Small victory, but it helped Jensen find strength, riding the wave of the win he looked back to Mr. Parker as the older man stepped in front of him, faces inches apart.

“And now it's time for the grownups.”

Jensen's face matched the coldness in the eyes that reminded him so much of a shark, lifeless and dead despite life inside, and he shook his head slowly. “I will not work for you.”

“We'll see.” Then without looking back, he spoke to the guards. “Take him back to the basement.”

 

The darkness was different the second time, not as overwhelming, the isolation not as daunting, the hunger, the cold, the aches and pains, not as miserable. He'd pass days doing push-ups on the floor or pull-ups on the bars. He'd count out the drops of water required to fill the little glass they'd provided, he's found every little bump or indentation on the floor, counting them, making up math algorithms and geometric designs in his head. He didn't allow himself to think about the two messages he'd sent, didn't allow himself to hope or plan, because, simply put, it wasn't time. Escape was inevitable, but it would not be quick. Parker and security were on guard, too prepared so it was a matter of fighting each battle as it came, accepting he could not win them all. He would have to choose wisely, lose when it's most convenient, and win when he had to no matter the cost. And wait until the time was right then disappear again.

Different guards fed him, none spoke to him, and Jensen would rather that. It allowed him to stay inside his head, which, unlike the last time, he preferred. It was a battle, a war and he was a prisoner. Should he give in to Parker then he would betray everything he believed. With Jared gone it was a battle much easier to fight. In fact, facing life in the darkness and locked in a cage like an animal was an easy price to pay when the alternative was being part of something evil – murder and conspiracy and corruption both of people and politics. The Center was hell-bent on power and they wielded it with callousness to both soldier and civilian, with no other goal than to advance their own agenda. Unacceptable. Each time Jensen even considered giving in or giving up that was all he had to think of and his resolve was strong again. Well, now that Jared was out of the picture.

For some reason Jared had altered the battlefield and Jensen still wasn't sure why any more than he understood why he often woke with a hard cock in hand and Jared's name on his lips. It didn't make sense; there was no logic to it. Jared was not the friend he'd known as a boy, or even that person who took so much from him as a teenager. He was not the savior who'd pulled Jensen out of this hell the first time he'd been downstairs when he'd felt his own mind slipping away. He was not his lover. Though too often when Jensen was not forcing himself to focus on something he would find himself remembering the hard body over his, the slide of Jared's cock filling him, the mixture of pain and pleasure as he'd given into the passion, and yes, Jensen had to admit he had given into it, he'd surrendered. Part of him trembled in how much he'd wanted it, perhaps only for a moment or two, but having Jared take from him, not giving him a choice, not letting him think or decide, and leaving Jensen with nothing to do but react to each and every sensations. It was mindless and to a man whose entire existence was validated by the one aspect Jared would not allow him to use made it...

Something.

Jensen wasn't even sure what it made it. What it made him. And if he didn't know what that made him then he definitely didn't know what it made Jared.

He remembered how it was as boys. Their lives had been so isolated, few people even spoke to them that didn't have to, and they were oddities to the support staff and served a purpose to the trainers. With a constant worry of pedophilia because the children were extremely susceptible, starved for affection, living almost completely without physical contact other than their individual handlers, and even that was limited. Too many rules. By the time he was twelve, everything Jensen knew of the world came from books or training videos. 

Then one day he'd heard a noise in the library where he'd been studying, scratches, a crash and some cursing and gone to explore. Jared, tall lean and fifteen was brushing himself off, obviously having fallen through the air duct, his movements stopping when he'd found he had an audience. He'd cocked his head, eyes checking Jensen out, evaluating the threat. He was the one who'd broken the silence.

“You tell anyone you saw me and I'll crawl into your room when you're sleeping and slit your throat.”

Jensen took a step back. “I won't tell anyone.”

The taller boy stepped forward into his personal space, eyes narrowed, looking for a lie. He leaned in until they were eye-to-eye and glared. “I know how to kill a man.” He stood, straightening his shoulders back and grinned proudly. “I'm training to be an agent.”

Jensen had looked up. “Don't they give agents books?”

“What do you mean?”

“Trying to figure out why you broke into the library?”

Jared rolled his eyes. “I was trying to break into the armoury. They got new weapons and they won't let me see them yet.”

“Oh. Wrong floor. It's downstairs.”

“I know that, dipshit.”

Jensen chewed on his bottom lip a moment, watching as Jared brushed dust off his clothes and righted a few of the books he'd knocked over, then moved back to the little passage, flicking a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. Jensen spoke without even thinking.

“I could draw you a map or something, I know the building really well. I could help you.”

Jared stopped, long limbs stretched, one foot already half up the wall. He looked back. “You crawl around the ducts a lot?”

“No, but I saw the blueprints of the building once. Kinda memorized it.”

“Oh” he drawled, with another dramatic eye roll. “You're a brainiac.” Like it was a bad thing.

Something must have shown on Jensen's face because Jared added, “Future minds of the Centre. Going to replace computers or something like that. Supposed to be real smart and all that.”

Jensen just shrugged, not liking the condescending tone; he felt a flush rising in his cheeks, and liking that feeling even less. “Just wanted to help.”

Jared pulled out again, shifting the panel back into place temporarily. “Okay, kiddo. Show me what you can do.”

It didn't take long; Jensen pulled a notebook out, deft fingers drawing out the directions, pointing out easier access panels that led to the right hallway. He wanted to say something, talk about something, he'd only ever met one other kid at the Centre and she was not the nicest, always bossing him around and said he had to call her Ms. because her father was in charge and that made her more important than everyone else, but every time he looked up at the other boy, older, taller, so sure of himself, Jensen's tongue seemed to dry out and he couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, he just handed the paper with directions over.

“If you go down two floors and cross here,” he pointed to his little map, “then come back up here,” he pointed again, “you can get right into the armoury. I don't know if you have the key or know the password for the door.”

The teenager took the paper, scrutinizing it a moment then nodded slowly, more to himself than Jensen. “No, was gonna pick the lock.”

“You won't have to. This should be easier.”

“Hm.” was all he said, eyes back on the paper. Jensen waited silently, barely moving, feeling like this was more of a test than Jeff ever gave him and he really wanted to pass the test. He wanted the older boy to be pleased.

Jared slapped Jensen's shoulder hard, sending the smaller boy stumbling forward a step or two. “Good job, kiddo.”

Jensen beamed, rubbing at the sting. “Jensen.”

“What?”

“My name. It's Jensen.”

“Well, thanks Jensen.” He turned back, moving the panel and slipping his body inside, paper held between his teeth. Jensen's mouth moved, wanting to say something to get the other to stay with him, even for a few more minutes, but again or perhaps still, his mind was blank. What could he say that would be more interesting than a trip to the surreptitious armoury? When Jared was behind the panel, he peered through the grating, grinning. “I meant what I said. Tell anyone you saw me and I will kill you.”

“I won't. I swear.”

“We'll see what your word is worth.”

Then he was gone.

Jensen never did tell, never would have dared, not because of the threat but because Jared had become his secret, something private that was just his. In his head, whenever the sadness and loneliness got to him he would think of his secret friend. He would make up little stories, conversations; silly little things that made him feel a little better on the darker days. For a month, he sponged off that accidental meeting for what little he could. Until he met up with Jared again.

The lights flashed on in Jensen's cell and if felt like the sun exploded in his head, Jensen's body snapped hard, yanking him from his memories and rolled on the floor until his face was wrapped up in his arms, burning stinging his eyes. “Christ! Little warning before you blind me.”

Mr. Parker's amused voice just pissed him off. “Not about your comfort, Jensen. You keep forgetting that.”

Slowly rubbing away the pain, and even more slowly letting the light in, he finally peeked out of is crunched up eyes. “Could have fooled me giving me these five star accommodations and all the delicious food. Though, I have to admit I am not too fond on the swimming pool.”

“You've been down here for two weeks. How long do you think this can go on?”

Jensen let out a sigh and leaned back against the bars. “As long as it takes for you to realize I will not help you kill people. I don't care if I die down here.”

Mr. Parker studied him for a long time, analytical eyes sharp and focused. “I believe you.”

“Good. So, now that we're agreed on that, why don't you just let me go.”

The old man cocked a brow. “I said I believed you. You would give up your life, but would you give up Jeff's?”

Jensen's body went very, very still. “What?”

“I think we would start with pain. Maybe cut off a finger or two.”

Jensen felt his heart thumping and pushed himself up until he was standing, forgetting completely about his own nudity. “No.”

“Or, maybe I'll have him raped. Tough marine like him would have trouble dealing with that.”

Jensen was at the front of the cage gripping the bars before he knew he'd moved. His voice barely a gasp. “No.”

Mr. Parker's eyes narrowed hard on Jensen. “Or maybe castrated. Do you think he could handle that?”

“He'd been loyal to you for over twenty-five years.”

“He's an asset to be used to his full potential.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“It's up to you, Jensen. I'll leave it in your hands.”

Jensen's head dropped against the bars. Jeff was closer to him than anyone in the universe, had raised him, trained him, nursed him when sick, answered his questions, encouraged him when sad, and, despite so many rules at the Center of not getting attached to those under him, Jeff had done everything he could to make Jensen's captivity as content as possible, sneaking him things, food, books, games, pictures of the outside world. Giving up his own life was one thing, giving up Jeff's... but Jeff's life versus hundreds, maybe thousands of others. The few against the many, the one sacrifice to save the others. He remembered so many stories Jeff had told him about being a marine, about being the protector, fighting for one's beliefs, doing what was right. Perhaps why Jeff could never really come to terms with how he was supposed to treat his charge.

“Mr. Parker. I can't kill people. You can't ask me to be part of that. Jeff would... he'd understand.”

The words cut through his soul, scorching and burning him hollow, knowing his words were condemning, sacrificing, the only person who had ever given a damn about him. He opened his eyes and let them plead for him. “Anything else.”

Again, a long silence filled the air, a pregnant pause before judgement passed and Jensen could feel sweat trickling down his naked back.

“I can respect that. I'm sure we can work something out.”

Jensen just nodded, his heart strangling him where it beat in his throat. He couldn't look up, couldn't face the victory in the old bastard's face. He was losing ground, definitely lost this battle. With that kind of advantage, he could lose this war. Christ. He should have predicted it, he should have remembered that nothing was sacred; nothing was safe, in the Center. 

“Fine.” he whispered softly. “You win.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking the tightrope of compliance, Jensen goes through Handlers, tried to figure out how little he can get away with surrendering, and never, for a moment, stops plotting his next escape. Seeing Jeff again, even for a few moments, reignites all the hope and effort anew.

Jensen's eyes scanned the report, his report, focusing on the minute details. It was all there, all the information that he'd been required to share, his analysis on recent covert operations of a foreign country. It had taken Jensen roughly three days to find all the answers they needed but added another two to figure out how to hide what he could within his own report, written in such a way as to not be identified unless in hindsight. A gamble, but one that had paid off twice before in the last three weeks. Hadn't started out so well. The first few assignments they'd thrown his way he'd seriously downplayed his abilities. Didn't get away with that and he'd paid. They'd brought a cage upstairs, placed it right in the middle of the computer room, and would lock him in it whenever he was not working on something specific. He'd been forced to sit in that cage for two days while other people moved around him, and, despite his best efforts, it was damned humiliating. Not the most horrible possible punishment, they could have hurt Jeff, but the point was made. They knew what he was capable of; they'd used his abilities for too many years to settle for less.

Mr. Parker did keep his word, so far. His first three assignments were more concerning corporate takeovers or corporate espionage, hacking computers and stealing information. Expertise well beneath his abilities but Parker was making sure Jensen was obeying, and so far, Jensen was. To a point. What they didn't know, he didn't add, when they asked a question, he gave, most often, the obvious answer. He would not allow himself to see deeper patterns and really, they couldn't prove he could see anything other than what was in his reports.

Jensen should have been a juggler.

He turned around in his chair and held the papers to the man in front of him, his handler; the newest one. Or latest. Third in as many weeks. Jensen had chased the first off telling stories, horror stories of what the Center did to the families when agents screwed up royally, basically scaring him off, and the last Jensen heard he'd moved back into security. The second was the most fun. Jensen stole a page out of Jared's book. The man was giving off a horrific homophobic vibe when he'd heard what Jared had done to him so Jensen started hitting on the guy, a lot. Kept cornering him, pressing him up against walls. Guy didn't last a week, either. This third one was quiet, smaller, didn't really talk much, and there was something about the way he would cock his head and stare his deep blue eyes at him that Jensen found invasive, and a little creepy.

Misha finished reading the report and arched a brow. “This is not acceptable.”

“Want it done better than do it yourself.”

“That is your job, not mine.”

“My job is to answer their questions and find the information they asked for. It's all there.”

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving Jensen's face and Jensen had to concentrate hard to keep his face neutral. The guy really had a way of looking right through him, as if he could see lies written on his face that he knew were not showing.

“They'll eventually get tired of you holding back.”

“Show me where I'm holding back. Everything they asked for is there.”

“Yes. To the letter. No more, no less. They expect more from you.”

“They can expect whatever they want but they get what they ask for. Not my problem if they aren't creative in their questions.”

Misha offered a joyless smile. “Jeff had warned me that you would make this difficult.”

Jensen perked up. “You spoke to Jeff?”

“I do quite often. And please, before you think of it, don't ask me to give him a message. You know it's not permitted.”

Jensen dropped back in his chair, sighing. He knew that and wouldn't have asked. He didn't know Misha enough to know if he's friend or foe but would bet foe. He might appear quiet and nice but he was a Center employee, so there was no doubt he had qualifications outside of just being quiet and nice. Handlers had to be able to play nice as easily as they could play hardball, and Jensen knew it was just a matter of time before he found out Misha's other qualifications.

Misha placed the report in a folder and stood up. “I'll hand it in but you know Mr. Parker will not be happy. He expects more.”

Jensen holds his hands up as if to say 'what can ya do'.

“Will you be prepared for the consequences?”

“What are they going to do, Misha? Take away my TV privileges? I'm a prisoner here, held against my will. There isn't a whole hell of a lot left they can take away from me.”

“Perhaps you should concern yourself less about what they could take away than what they could give.”

Jensen brow crunched lower, confused. It was not often a cryptic comment stumped him, but he could feel the threat underneath it. “What are you talking about?”

Misha chewed on his thoughts a moment and Jensen wasn't sure he would answer, but then he turned back to face him, planting both feet purposefully on the floor, and if Jensen didn't know better he would have thought the other man was preparing for a physical fight. “You are a man who fears very little, Jensen, which makes you a frightening man. Don't trick yourself into thinking you are surrounded by fools.”

“I know I'm not. I would have been able to escape by now if I was.”

Misha waved a hand through the air dismissively. “You are biding your time and choosing your moment.”

It was Jensen's turn to arch a brow. Okay, that was a little too close to home. He continued before Jensen could interject. “You are a man of great intellect, a complex intellect, but you are also a very compassionate and passionate man. A very principled man. You cannot be bought, you cannot be blackmailed, and you cannot be coerced. They threatened Jeff and you acquiesce but you do not surrender. They put you in the basement and you acclimatize yourself. Whatever they inflict, you adapt.”

Jensen kept himself very still; uneasiness crept over him like a haunted fog at how completely he was being described. He kept his tone neutral. “Not bad qualities to have.”

“Then there is Jared,” he continued. “In essence he raped you and made you enjoy it. He made you need him, but even that you found a way to modify for your own benefit. Perhaps just barely, but you did it.”

Jensen's pulse raced and forced himself to focus on his blinking, keeping each slow and pensive, his belly churning as if a dozen snakes had just woken up. He forced a slight smirk. “He's young, had his own personal agenda.”

Misha nodded slightly. “True. Perhaps that made it easier for you to rile him.”

Jensen laughed. “Perhaps.”

“It was your most difficult time since your return. So perhaps it is not what they will take from you but give to you. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.” And he did. They had taken everything away when he'd been in the basement so when Jared came for him he would have taken anything Jared would give. Almost worked too, though Jensen would never admit that aloud.

“I'm not too worried. My first bit here took me a while to get my head around everything and yeah, I'll admit, Jared and his little games kept me off my game, but I'm in my grove now, Misha, and I am doing nothing more than what they trained me for my whole life. The only reason it's pissing the bastard upstairs off is because they trained me too well. I'm not their little puppy anymore. I don't beg for scraps at the master's table as I did as a child. I know better, those scraps are tainted. I would rather starve.”

“I know, but they would rather you feast. And when you have feasted on their tainted food you will belong to them.”

“I guess I'll just have to watch what I eat.”

“Sound thinking. Anyway. I need to get this upstairs. Do I need to remind you to stay out of the air ducts?”

He knew sensors had been put in since his last escape attempt. “Nah. I hate copying myself.”

He watched the single nod, a personal dismissal perhaps, and then Misha left. Jensen stared a long time after he heard the click of the lock, though he didn't see the door. He could still see Misha and, after hearing himself being described so well, it again made him contemplate Misha's expertise. He was obviously not a handler, but Jensen really had no idea what he did for the Center.

*~*~*

“You aren't telling us anything we don't already know,” snapped Ms. Parker. Her dark eyes narrowed in frustration and she stubbed out her cigarette into the ashtray on her father's desk. “You're supposed to be the fucking expert. A week with him and you're giving us nothing.”

“I give you the information required to make educated decisions. Whether you can understand the information or make the proper judgement is not something I have control over Ms. Parker. As I have told your father, and I am now telling you, that it would be a mistake.”

She snarled, almost looked like a smile but it was more a show of teeth, and then turned her attention to her father. “Come on, Daddy, let me have him. I'll get him back with the program.”

“As I said,” Misha reiterated. “That would be a mistake.”

“He's gone through half the Center’s handlers and he's playing them. A bunch of idiot men who have no idea what they're dealing with. They couldn't handle him.”

“That isn't exactly accurate.”

Mr. Parker finally joined the conversation. “Explain.”

Misha pulled opened the file before him, a copy of it already before each both Ms. Parker and Mr. Parker.

“Very well. I'm going to start at the beginning so you can understand my thought process. It may help to understand.” His eyes flickered to the daughter as he said this, and then turned back to the file. “You contracted me to observe the asset and evaluate. He is quite a strong man, not only physically and mentally, but also pragmatically and spiritually. He believes in this fight of his. He sees the Center as an evil corporation and you, sir, as Lucifer himself. And because he sees himself as fighting the good fight. You will not be able to alter that.”

“Well, we got him upstairs. He's starting to work. So we must have done something right.”

Misha shook his head. “No, Ms. Parker. He allowed himself to be manipulated. Your threat to Jeff Morgan was an acceptable excuse for him to give some ground. I also believe he would allow Jeff to be tortured and/or killed to keep from giving in to you.”

“No way. He would never do that.” interrupted Ms. Parker. Misha arched a brow. “Oh?”

She rolled her eyes. “He raised Jensen. The man is like his only family.”

“True, but let me ask you this. Where do you think Jensen learned what he so strongly believes? I don't believe child assets are giving classes on morality and compassion.”

“It's... just... just his character.”

“No, it's not. I've spoken with Jeff. His bedtime stories to Jensen were often old war stories. Where he meant to teach about battle stratagems, teamwork, and the horrors of war, he was teaching Jensen how to protect those who need protection, how to stand up against all odds, stand up for what one believes. Jeff was a marine, a proud marine who served his country in two wars, has won the several medals including two purple hearts and the silver star, evidently willing to sacrifice himself for a greater good. Jeff raised Jensen with the same morality and hard-core belief system one would find in any marine barracks. What you're facing now is the consequence of Jensen being Jeff's good soldier. Therefore, it would not be improbable for Jensen to accept Jeff as a casualty of war. He would be bombarded with guilt but would neutralize said emotion with the knowledge that Jeff would prefer to be sacrificed than allow others to die in his place. In my opinion Jeff Morgan has no value as a threat anymore.”

Ms. Parker let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at her father. Mr. Parker pondered this information for a moment. “What did you mean before when you said it was not entirely accurate about the handlers not being able to handle him?”

“I've watched all the tapes. Listened to all the recordings. Jared had him.”

Ms. Parker scoffed derisively. “Oh please.” She lit another cigarette exhaling smoke in the blue-eyed man's face. “He almost let Jensen escape.”

“Perhaps.” He turned his eyes back to Mr. Parker. “I also watched the tapes from when they were teenagers.”

“It was something we were trying. Not a very successful avenue.”

Misha arched a brow, but said nothing, instead turned back to his files, flipping a few pages, re-reading his own report. Finally, he said, “Over a three year period a strong bond was created between the two boys, Jared offering Jensen the illusion of freedom, the illusion of friendship. A secret bond, in fact. Yet nothing happened those first years, is that correct?”

“That's right. I had Jared just befriending to him.”

“And bossing him around?”

“Not initially, but Jensen wouldn't follow at first. He was afraid to break the rules. Jared started telling him what to do and threatened not to come back if Jensen didn't do as he was told. Got him out of his rooms. The sex wasn't initiated until after the bond of friendship and dependency was established.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” asked Mr. Parker. Misha offered one of his joyless smiles. “I believe these events are a precursor to Jensen's eventual escape. Simply put, sir, you taught him to break the rules and do what felt right.”

“Ha!” Mr. Parker laughed out loudly, but did not sound happy.

“So, when Jared started demanding sexual favors it became a relationship based on reciprocity. I also noted that Jared upset Jensen – hurt him, frightened him, made him cry – then after whatever physical pleasure was to be had or inflicted Jared would hold and comfort the boy. Jensen was being sexually abused, then comforted by his abuser, but what is most interesting is that Jensen kept going back, sneaking off, knowing, in fact, accepting the cost he would pay for this friendship.”

“He was a confused child.” Ms. Parker pointed out.

“True. Part of him is still that boy. His physical reaction to Jared is evident in the reports as well as the videos. The emotional reaction, the surrender in the basement, I don't believe that was an act. Not completely at least.”

“Well, he seemed to get over it pretty damned fast.” snapped Ms. Parker. “One minute he was this supposed broken man and the next crawling through the air ducts to escape. Doesn't sound to me as if Jared succeeded.”

Misha's eyes locked patiently on Ms. Parker a moment, ignoring as she blew more smoke in his direction. “No, it wouldn't, but then you think Jensen was trying to escape the Center”

“Of course he was.”

“I believe he was escaping Jared.”

His comment silenced the two others. He continued. “I spoke to Jensen just before I came up here, gave him a quick yet complete run down of his psyche, and it made him tense, but nothing unusual. At the mere mention of Jared's name, though, his entire body reacted, eyes dilated, pulse quickened, body temperature rose. He's quite good at hiding it but I am the best in my field. That is why you contracted me. I have broken some of the hardest soldiers in war, stolen secrets from the minds of some of the best undercover and covert operatives around the globe, and as you are well aware my talents are sought out worldwide and do not come cheap so when I say this you should understand. It would not be me who could break Jensen. You already have the best tool for the job. You need only let him loose.”

Ms. Parker started to object when she saw her father's smile and the slight nod of his head she knew he had already made up his mind. Choosing to accept it at this point, but would bring her objections up again when Jared failed.

“What do you mean by let him loose?”

“You hold his reins too tight.” This time when he smiled, it actually crawled all the way up and lit his eyes. “Jared is the best tool you have to break, manipulate and use Jensen. Let him loose.”

Mr. Parker leaned back in his chair, fingers playing in his mustache “Very well. Outline something for Jared. We'll do it right this time.”

 

As Jensen awaited Misha's return, he curled into a large comfortable chair in the suite he'd been assigned since he'd started 'behaving'. Two rooms, living area and bedroom, nicely decorated, and absently he noted they reminded him of some nice hotels he's stayed in. Only nice hotels did not have bulletproof glass that he didn't have a hope in hell of breaking or doors locking the occupant inside. At least he got a window. When in the basement he'd been missing the sky something fierce, almost as if part of him was afraid to forget the color or the sight of the clouds or the gliding movements of birds as they soared across the span of his vision. He sighed softly. He also missed the feel of wind on his face.

The door's locks clicked and Jensen glanced over, watching silently as Misha returned. He wanted to ask what took so long; he wanted to ask if old man Parker was pissed and if so, was he pissed enough to rain Hellfire on Jensen again. He wanted to ask if he could go outside, didn't care if they surrounded him with a dozen guards; he just wanted to feel the wind.

He turned back to the window, cheek resting against the headrest and said nothing. No answer he could get would matter. Parker would do what he would do, and Jensen would deal as he had to and feeling the wind would mean nothing because they'd end up just dragging him back inside eventually anyway. It was better to put those thoughts out of his head for now. He had more important things to think about. It had been five weeks since he'd sent his two messages yet there had only been one answer. A week earlier he'd found a single word written in toothpaste in the computer room's bathroom. Done. That was all it said. When it had been left, he had no idea but then he'd been keeping his head down, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible – couldn't look like a man with a plan waiting for reinforcements. No, better to look like the man caged and futilely fighting, powerless and soon to be humbled. Though, after his little chat earlier with Misha he was pretty sure no one truly believed that image.

“It's dinnertime.”

Jensen tore his eyes from the sky and looked up. Misha was standing before him, feet planted squarely as he usually did when he seemed to be expecting an argument. Jensen shrugged. “Have them send it up. I don't feel like going to the cafeteria so I can talk to no one.”

“You can speak with me.”

Jensen chuckled scornfully. “And what would we talk about?”

“Jensen, we do need to bond or they'll remove me and replace me with another handler. Are you not pleased with me?”

He arched a brow. Okay, this was different. Handlers couldn't care less if they assets liked or not, they only cared if they were obeyed. He couldn't help but grin. “Are you asking me if I am pleased with one of my prison guards?”

“I'm no such thing. I didn't kidnap you, nor do I hold you here.”

“Then unlock the door and let me out.”

Misha was quiet for the longest time, his head cocked. Jensen just scoffed, turning back to the window. Misha's voice was soft. “What would you do if I did?”

“Well, I'd like to see Jeff. I'd like to talk with him, make sure he's okay.”

“My telling you he would not ease your mind?”

“I don't know you. Why would I believe you?”

The dark blue eyes pierced their way into him and Jensen just watched, expecting nothing. There was no way Misha would allow it and if by some miracle he did, it would be for any other reason than to build trust with his charge. Either answer though, would give Jensen insight into the man.

“What if I were to arrange for him to walk by us as we made our way to the cafeteria? I'm sure you can choose an appropriate blind spot.”

Jensen could. There were very few places in the entire building not covered by cameras but there were a few cracks and corners too awkward or tangential to cover completely. It was his turn to study the man before him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you asked to speak with Jeff.”

“Right. And what's it going to cost me?”

“I want nothing from you, Jensen. What you ask is a small thing and I see nothing wrong with a supervised visit with the man who raised you.”

That was too easy of an answer and Jensen knew it was a lie but he also knew that he really needed to see Jeff. “Doesn't mean I'm going to change my work habits.”

“As I stated, I wish nothing from you. Do you want me to make arrangements or not? The cafeteria will only be opened another hour.”

He knew it was a bad idea, he knew something was up. Misha showed nothing, no dishonesty, no urgency, no hesitation, but there was something. Jensen nodded slowly. “Yeah. Tell him to meet us where I used to throw temper tantrums. He'll know the place.”

“Give me a moment.” He stepped out of the room to the phone hanging on the wall to the left of the door. Outside where Jensen couldn't get to it. He'd almost given an actual destination; a hallway and door number, but then considered possible traps and trickery. Using code kept guards from lying in wait, or Jeff being used against him. This way, if Misha allowed Jensen to lead and Jeff actually showed up then it meant Misha did as he said; that he’d arranged the meeting behind Parker’s back. What that would mean, Jensen still didn't know, but he was willing to take a risk.

Misha stepped back into the room. “He said he would meet us there in ten minutes. How long will it take us to get to this hidden corner?”

A little surprised and a lot more cautious, Jensen pushed up from the chair and headed to Misha by the door. “Ten minutes. Let's go.”

The hallways were deserted. They day shift had already left for the day and it was too early for the swing shifts to be wandering around. They would still be setting up, checking emails, voice mails, or whatever people at the Center did that first hour of work. Misha kept his step light, no stress locking his shoulders, his face passive. So either he was planning something nefarious and was an incredible actor, or he was really up to nothing. It wasn't until they rounded the last corner and Jensen saw his mentor, his friend, the one person in the world who held a piece of his heart and finally, he smiled.

Jeff's face washed with relief and he reached out, both hands grabbing Jensen by his biceps, squeezing as Jensen's own hands did the same to the older man. He was only slightly taller than Jensen was, though much older, Jensen reached to the beard, scratching the chin slightly. “Lot of grey in there, old man."

“Not so old I can't still kick your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, bring it.”

They both laughed quietly. There were no hugs, no closer touches but to Jensen it was the world. Most of his life the only time he ever felt safe, ever felt cared for, ever felt understood, was in that man's presence.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Am I okay! Are you okay? I know they had you in the basement and I've heard rumors.”

Jensen chuckled despite himself. “You'd be amazed how many of those tricks you taught me actually work.”

“Of course they work. Wouldn't waste your brainpower. You'd never forgive me.”

The seriousness stole over his features. He glanced over his shoulder where Misha was watching them with interest. He wanted to bark at him to back off and give them some privacy but knew it would be pushing his luck. Instead, he lowered his voice.

“They're using you as incentive.”

Jeff sighed, nodding. “Figured as much. Just do what you gotta do.”

Safely worded answer. Could mean to do whatever to keep Jeff safe, but Jensen knew it meant to follow his beliefs. He nodded to the old soldier. Jeff smirked. “Heard you made it all the way to the west underground garage.”

“Miscalculation. Didn't know there would be so many guards there.”

“Dumbass plan. Thought I taught you better.”

“You did. I was reacting, not acting. Won't happen again, sir.” The endearment slipped out. Jeff was, after all, the man he respected most in the world. Jeff's warm smile deepened, showing off the dimples hidden under the beard and for the briefest moment, Jensen thought of Jared. He shook it off. That problem was dealt with. Jeff saw the reaction and frowned. Jensen shook his head slightly, dismissing it. Misha cleared his throat. Jensen got the message and nodded back. Jeff understood as well that time was up. He squeezed Jensen's arm.

“Next time try the east garage. Better quality of cars.”

“Yeah, and triple the guards.”

“No, only double if you have the right friends.”

Jensen laughed. “Right, and I have so many friends here.”

Jeff's deep rumbling laughing washed over Jensen. “Ah, don't worry. Computers still love you. Birds of a feather and all that.”

“Jensen.” Misha said softly.

Jensen took a step back, slowly releasing Jeff's embrace. “Take care of yourself, old man.”

“Keep that up and one of these days I'll put you over my knee like I did when you were twelve.”

Jensen grinned, nodding in understanding and Jeff grinned back.

“Take care, Jensen. Hope I don't see you soon.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience and planning come to fruition. Jensen finds his wait out.

It was many hours later when he was lying in bed, his body still thrumming with excitement, with anticipation. It was as he could suddenly breathe, he could feel his chest expanding with each new breath and they felt clean, something he hadn't felt since Jared's big meaty paw grabbed him and shoved him into the red brick of a municipal library months ago. Perhaps it was because he finally felt the beginning hope that this hell would soon be over. Misha had watched and listened to ever word Jensen and Jeff had shared. He had carefully studied facial expressions and listened to intonations and without any doubt in his mind, Jensen knew Misha did not hear the conversation the two men had really had, but then how could an outsider understand the hidden words, subtext and misdirection spoken so easily, so freely, between two people who'd had to keep love secret for almost twenty years. Handlers who became personally involved with their charges were transferred to someone else, moved to another facility, or just taken away. Therefore, Jeff and Jensen had always had to hide the depths of the father/son love they shared and had always spoken in riddles and codes locked away behind glib jokes and teasing insults.

Simply put Jensen had learned that the things he'd asked of Jeff in the message he'd sent five weeks ago were all prepared for him.

Jeff: “Heard you made it all the way to the west underground garage.” I got your message.

Jensen: “I was reacting, not acting. Won't happen again, sir.” Needed a distraction. Next will be real.

Jeff: “Next time try the east garage. Better quality of cars.” I have a car waiting for you in the east garage.

Jensen: “Yeah, and triple the guards.” Third level by security?

Jeff: “No, only double if you have the right friends.” No, second.

Jensen: “Right, and I have so many friends here.” What about security?

Jeff: “Ah don't worry. Computers still love you. Birds of a feather and all that.” Don't worry, I'm still watching over you. I'll be watching your back.

Jensen: “Take care of yourself old man.” I love you.

Jeff: “Keep that up and one of these days I'll put you over my knee like I did when you were twelve.” I'll be waiting for you at midnight.

Jeff: “Take care, Jensen. Hope I don't see you soon.” I love you too.

Just having spoken to Jeff, feeling those strong muscled arms holding his tight made Jensen feel good. He'd always known Jeff had his back, ever since that first night; Jensen still crying for parents he would never see again and Jeff holding him for hours and eventually rocking him to sleep. It took months for Jensen to sleep without holding him. Hearing the man's voice when again, that low whiskey blown rumble that had soothed his fears and taught him to think made his chest feel that much warmer. He'd never really been alone so long as Jeff was in his corner.

He glanced at the clock on the night table. 11:22. His suite was silent. Misha had left for his own room hours earlier, so Jensen had showered, changed into clean sweatpants and an old t-shirt, turned off all the lights, gone to bed at is usual time, and waited the last forty minutes. Everything was exactly as it had been every single night since they had let him out of the damned cage. It would take him exactly twenty minutes to crawl through the air ducts. He had to grin. Old man Parker had made a point of letting him know he'd had sensors locked into every exit on every floor so crawling around up there would 'be a waste of time and knee skin'. Good warning. Good deterrent. Or would be if Jensen didn't still have a few friends in the building. Parker was right, the sensors were all in place, every single air duct on the lower two levels, except one office. Toothpaste in the bathroom had told him so. And that one room with that one safe panel happened to have a window that opened. It had security bars but picking the lock that would release should take him long seconds at best.

11:29

Jensen climbed out of bed, stocking feet silent on the carpet as he tiptoed across the room. He didn't need the light in the darkness for two reasons. One, he knew the room, the furniture and the space and could walk it in his sleep, he'd spent enough time pacing the room, and two, having been in the basement and in pitch dark so much in the last few months he actually felt very comfortable now in the dark. His deft fingers quickly unscrewed the screws of the panel then slid it open just enough to look inside. He stole a quick cleansing, calming breath, shook out the last minute jitters from his shoulders, and arms then pulled himself up. All the push-ups and pull-ups he'd been doing since the second trip downstairs paid off and his body moved easily. The first steps of freedom.

He counted in his head as he moved, mind following the cerebral map he'd never forgotten since he'd seen the blueprints so many years ago. There was also a time these ducts were his jungle gym. How ironic that he'd fought Jared at first when he was a boy, too afraid to follow, too afraid to break rules. Back then, Jared had bucked at everything, rules, training, and classes. He just wanted to explore and do things, anything. He'd wanted out. He'd wanted a life. Now, years later it was Jensen who was running, Jensen who couldn't and wouldn't accept the Center and Jared who fought to belong. He'd often wondered what would have happened if Jared had never incited a more adventurous streak in him, taught him that it was okay to break the rules sometimes. Would he have just accepted his fate?

He took the twists and turns, climbed carefully down the access shoots, hands scraping, knees biting, but he barely felt any of it. All he felt was the relief building within him. Almost two months in the basement. Three days with Jared. Twenty days back to work. Three months of his life stolen away. Three months of the never forgotten misery that had been his existence before he'd escaped. Three months and now Jeff was giving him his freedom, something he could never had done before. His eyes caught on a refraction of light and he looked up, seeing the final panel to the last office on the first floor.

It took dexterity to get the screws out, but Jared had taught him a trick to make it easier many years ago and that trick still worked. He pushed the panel slowly, listening to every sound, not that there was much. The office was empty, dark, lit only from a streak of the streetlamp from outside. He slid out carefully, feet landing silently, arms lowering to his side and he pivoted, scanning the room, looking for anything that might be out of place. His heart drumming so hard he could barely hear above it and had to focus, part of him knowing he was safe, part of him expecting the pounding feet of alerted security to come crashing through the door any second now, but as he took slow, even, deep breaths, then slowly exhaled them until he could hear above his own adrenaline no sounds came. Nothing but the quiet silence of the night. He glanced at the clock on the desk. 11:56. Eight minutes maximum to make it outside. Jeff was taking a huge chance but the man was not foolish enough to hang around. He would have arranged his departure to have him driving out at exactly five minutes passed midnight. That way if Jensen had come into any problems the plan would still be viable another time. Jeff would not be compromised. Jensen grabbed a letter opener from the desk and opened the window. This was Ms. Parker's office and her being a heavy smoker had insisted on access to fresh air. The only office window with removable security bars to allow her to open the window. Jensen loved the irony that her bad habit was helping him regain his freedom. He'd have to call her once he was safe and thank her for that.

It took a little longer than he'd expected to unlock the bars, almost two minutes, but not enough to make a difference. He dropped the letter opener onto the floor and grabbed the top ledge of the window, fingers gripping the pane tightly and he pulled up hard, muscles straining as he lifted his whole weight, and climbed his feet through. He turned onto his belly, holding tight. It was a fourteen-foot drop, but by carefully lowering himself with his new found upper body strength he was able to cut that by more than half. He released his grip, his body dropped, his knees instantly bending as he landed, cushioning the fall, and his hand slapped to the outer cement wall, catching his balance. He gasped in a stolen breath. Fresh air. Fresh clean air. He was out.

“Going somewhere?”

Jensen whipped around and froze, heart stomping in his chest. Blood screamed through his veins, bellowing out to every muscle in his body to run as he looked into Jared's slanted hazel eyes and curled wolfish smirk.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's gotten rid of him. Jared should be the one, he shouldn't be anywhere near Jensen. But he is. Again, Jared is all that stands between him and freedom...and Jeff's life.

Jensen forced himself to breathe, and not let his eyes glance over to the parking lot. Just a couple of hundred feet away was freedom. If he could make it. A couple of hundred feet away was Jeff. What if he couldn't? He did the calculation silently. He allowed his head to drop forward, eyes locking to the ground at his stocking feet. They were supposed to have ensured silence as he moved, yet now he could feel the small bumps in the ground and the tiny hard stones. His head shook softly. When he knew he could lock away his fear and dread that Jared somehow knew Jeff was out there waiting for him, when he knew he could hide it behind something safer, something real, only then did he raise his gaze again. He grasped onto the anger, downright fury seething through him and glared at Jared.

“How'd you know?”

Jared pondered a moment then pushed his shoulder off the wall and walked slow, a wide, deliberate circle around Jensen. “I know you. Knew you'd go back into the ducts. Just needed to figure out when. The where was easy.”

“Was it?”

“I noticed this sensor offline two days ago. Shoulda had your man inside wait till the right night.”

“What makes you think I didn't do it myself?”

“You're not that careless.” He absently pointed to the unlocked bars on the opened window as he continued his predatory circling. “And this is the only practical exit point.”

Jared was moving behind him and Jensen's entire being bristled, his spine straightened, shoulders pulling back, the muscles in his thighs clenching, crying out for fight or flight. He could feel Jared behind him, a shift in the air; almost feel the soft caress of his eyes. Jensen locked his throat down, lifting his chin slightly, arrogantly even, and kept his eyes forward. He needed to distract Jared just a few more moments so Jeff could get away.

“How'd you know it'd be tonight?”

“You spoke with Jeff today.”

Jensen frowned then shook his head. “Not good enough. An unknown eyeballed that conversation. Even if we were plotting something, you don't believe we could have planned this in a three-minute conversation. What's the truth?” He cocked his head just enough to smirk at Jared. “Or have you just been hanging around here every night since you saw the sensors down?”

Jensen was pleased with how reasonable that sounded, good intonation, proper skepticism, his own accusation taking focus off Jeff.

Jared chuckled and Jensen startled as heated breath tickled the back of his neck. He hadn't realized Jared had moved so close. “Let's just say I'm playing the odds.”

Dammit. Not good enough. He wanted an answer. He needed to know where he slipped, what he didn't see that Jared could. Mostly he needed to know if Jeff was safe. He allowed the smirk to stretch out his lip and the humor to tease into his voice.

“Whoda thunk it. Jared all grown up and using his big brain.”

The fist crashed hard into his lower back, driving him hard into the building cement wall, Jared's body crashing with almost equal force behind him, compressing his chest between the two forces, driving air out. Jared's tall, heavy body shifted, hips to hips, both his feet just outside of Jensen's, bracing his legs. Warmth enveloped Jensen like quicksand, mingled fragrances of Jared's aftershave and hints of musk wafting through the air, filling his senses. Jensen bucked once under the larger man, testing, hands finding the wall, body shifting. Jared's head dipped down, the soft wet pink tongue flickered ever so gently against the shell of Jensen's ear. “You made me look foolish.”

“You don't need me for that.”

He couldn't take the closeness, Jared's breath, his warmth, his scent. Mostly he couldn't handle the bulge pressing through several layers of cloth as Jared rolled licentiously against the cheeks of Jensen's ass. Threat and promise and a body that remembered and it was too much. Jensen's hands thrust hard against the wall, driving his body back with every ounce of strength and training he could find, his right elbow snapping back, catching Jared hard in the ribs, then instantly dropping his weight feigning left before quickly shifting right, body turning enough to thrust back his left elbow again, jamming hard, finding flesh. Jared's grunted exhale was all Jensen needed to know he's landed a solid blow. Jared stumbled back, but before Jensen could move further, a white blinding pain pounded into his right kidney. Jensen howled out, his knees buckling under him, pain driving the bile into his throat.

Jared's paws grabbed his hips, keeping Jensen from crumbling to the ground, ramming him back into the wall so hard Jensen's cheek and forehead scraped sharply across brick. Jensen blinked hard and fast to clear the explosion of lights in his brain, panting.

Jared's body slammed in, driving him hard to the wall again and hissed dark and cold, grinding his hardness deeper into Jensen's ass. “That's it. Fight me. God, I love when you fight me.”

Jensen knew it for the losing battle it was. He'd been taught self-defense but he was never really been taught to fight, not like that. Jared had height and weight, strength and experience. Besides, that was the second time Jared had told him to fight. No way did Jensen ever want to know what Jared could gain from a fight between them. His hands pressed hard into the wall, grounding him and his eyes glared forward at it yet he saw nothing. He forced his body to still, with the only visible movement being the rise and fall of his heaving chest, the only sounds in the night the harsh panting coming from both men.

“That's it? No more fighting. Shame.”

Jared's soft voice was as mocking as intended yet Jensen would not allow himself to bite back. Instead, he closed his eyes, forcing his breathing under control, focusing on the hardness of the wall before him and not the body behind him. He might not be in the best situation, but at least Jeff was gone, he wouldn't have waited longer than their scheduled time, and come morning he'd hear about the failed escape, which would leave them other possibilities for the future. They'd come up with another plan. This was a setback, not defeat he kept reminding himself. Repeatedly, doing anything to try to keep his thoughts on any mantra he could come up with so he would not have to acknowledge the subtle twists and shifts of Jared's body against his.

Jared dipped his head down, nibbling softly at Jensen's neck, just under his ear. “Did you really think you could make it?”

Snapping his head away, he said, “Not really but I'll never stop trying.”

Jared gripped a handful of Jensen's hair, twisting his neck harshly and resumed his attention to the sensitive flesh then moved up to nibble on his earlobe, twirling it in his tongue before scraping it with teeth then sinking lower to dropped open mouth kisses back along Jensen's neck. The tingling electricity that shot through his flesh screamed of everything his body should not crave, everything inflicted and everything imposed but instead of disgust, he could feel desire creeping deeper, louder, wantonly.

“Wouldn't make a difference,” Jared confided quietly, “I'd find you wherever you go.”

“No.” Jensen confided just as quietly. “No, you wouldn't.”

With the quickest of decision, faster than even Jensen thought himself capable, and an instantaneous translation of thought to action, Jensen's body twisted and he threw his elbow back with more force than even he thought he had.

“Fuck!” snapped Jared, head snapping back, his cheek taking the brunt of the blow. He jammed his hips forward violently; grinding Jensen's into the wall just as hard and reached out for Jensen's flailing wrists. Jensen tried twisting and bucking but with Jared's weight on him, he was pinned and with so little effort Jared yanked both of his arms up, using both height and strength, grasping them in one vice like grip. Jared wrapped his free right hand tight around Jensen's vulnerable throat, fingertips digging bruise deep around his windpipe. “That's it, fight me. Give me a fucking reason to hurt you.”

Jensen shuddered with the words but he couldn't stop. Part of him knowing there were too many ways Jared could and would hurt him should he give in. Especially when sporting the hard cock he kept threatening him with. Jensen inhaled deeply and hisses out every drop of hatred within him.

“Get the fuck off me you, sick bastard.”

Jared chuckled darkly and the sound of it rumbled up through Jared's chest shuddered down Jensen's spine. He would rather Jared angry, pissed, anything other than that cocky bastard who had picked him up three months ago.

“What's the matter, Jenny? Afraid you'll like it again?”

“Get over yourself. Physical reaction to sexual stimuli is normal. You were nothing but a walking dildo for me when I was having a few bad days.”

Hips behind him rolled, grinding the hardness slowly over his ass and Jensen squeezed his eyes tight, his chest clenching up, catching breath inside.

“It was more than that and you know it. Might have fooled the old man but I know better. I broke you.”

“In your dreams. I played you.”

The dark chuckle teased against his ear, heated breath washing over his shoulder and Jensen couldn't breathe, he could barely think, every fight or flight instinct Jeff had ever instilled in him screamed it's warnings through his spine. He couldn't go through this again. He'd gotten rid of Jared. He barked out the first thing that came to mind.

“You're just pissed because you got slapped down like the amateur you are in front of the big man. Sent off to your room like a damn child.”

Jared's body stiffened and Jensen froze, waiting. An angry Jared was a beast to fear but much better to deal with than the cocky horny bastard. Jensen would rather a beat down, rather the basement or any other misery they wished to inflict.

When Jared finally filled the silence, his voice was cold, sending tendrils of ice shooting through Jensen. “Let me show you what an amateur child I can be.”

His hand thrust between wall and hard body, grabbing at Jensen's crotch, heel pressing to the shaft as fingers cupped the balls roughly and to his greatest horror, Jensen felt a twinge of pleasure rush into his cock. He jumped to his toes, shoving his belly forward to crush the hand against the wall. “No!” he all but screamed. “Jared, no!”

He heard the pained curses stumble from Jared's lips from his scraped hand but it did nothing to stop the actions. Strong right arm yanking the smaller man's waist back for easier access, left hands pressing his captured wrists higher, stretching out his body, and leaving him off balance on his toes. His head snapped back, eyes wide as Jared shoved his hand down Jensen's sweatpants. Rumbled voice hissing out in heated air as he stroked Jensen's half-hard cock. A frustrated whimper slipped from Jensen's clenched throat.

“Is that what you wanted, bitch?” hissed Jared into his ear. “Is this why you are trying to piss me off? Like when I get rough with you?”

Jensen's head dropped forward, pressing it into the unforgiving hardness of the wall and clenched his body, his teeth, his jaw, his shoulders, his belly, his ass cheeks, every muscle of his being to keep himself still. Little good it did him as Jared pulled pleasure from him. His chest heaved, like there was too much air yet not enough, his head started shaking from side to side all on its own. His words came out barely a whisper. “You bastard.”

Fingers squeezed his balls, twisting his sack enough to draw out a pained gasp. “You will learn to behave.”

Jared shoved the sweatpants down, dragging them over Jensen's hips and Jensen's battle began anew, cloth-tangled legs kicking back, only to have Jared jerk cruelly on his tightened wrists, delicate bones grinding painfully harder together and he yelped out in pain. The pressure behind him eased off and a whirlwind of air-cooled his heated back. He heard Jared spit into his hand and whelped out a pathetic objection seconds before a single finger shoved harshly into his small tight hole. He cursed out again, hips thrashing, trying to dislodge it. Jared just followed his movements.

“Please, Jared! Dammit. Stop!”

The finger, barely wet, shoved in deeper, past the second knuckle as Jared leaned into him again. “You begging me?”

Jensen swallowed his words, swallowed his pleas, objections, and threats. He felt wetness in his eyes, tears building and he blinked hard, sucking in gulps of air, sucking in anger. “Is that what you need to get off?”

“Nope. Only need you whimpering for me.”

A second finger twirled the hole, threatening and Jensen had no choice, he had to breathe and force his body to relax, he had to let this happen. He squeezed his watery eyes, feeling the tears wanting to escape and denying that, refusing to give that to Jared. The finger pressed in, stretching the burn brighter, hips slowly shifting forward as the pain pulsed through him until the two fingers joined. He exhaled, gasping hard for a single full breath.

“Coulda done this easy but no, you have to make this difficult.”

“What the hell do you expect?”

The fingers shifted and Jensen clamped his throat down hard, swallowing back a yelp of pain, writhing against the wall. The fingers inside him scissored and turned, forcing the stretch much faster than could ever be comfortable. Jared twisted his wrist, turning the fingers and slowly he slid them out, dragging nails against the delicate inner walls until just the fingertips remain. Jensen gasped hard, his body on alert as he could do nothing more than wait for whatever Jared would do next. He was nowhere near prepared as Jared shoved them back inside so harshly he cried out, bucking with the ignited ring of fire coursing through him. Jared's husky soft laughter as cruel as the pain inflicted on him but Jensen couldn't find the breath to bark his hatred out. All he could do was squirm and endure. Each movement driving Jensen's hips to undulate with the forced rhythm.

“I expect you to take it like the good bitch you are. My good little bitch.”

“I am not your bitch!”

Jared shifting his fingers again, searching and Jensen knew exactly what he's seeking. His hips snapped forward. “Don't!”

Jared chuckled, but for some reason Jensen didn't understand but was grateful for, he stopped his search. The fingers slid out again, the burn slow and ever-present, shifting the heat around his stretching hole, flesh opening, and then back in, pressing all the way in until Jensen could feel the knuckles of the hand. The next time Jared pulled out; he pressed the third finger in. It was too much and too dry and he couldn't help it, head snapping back, crying out. “Don't! Stop!”

“I wanted you wet. I wanted to take it slow. This is your own fault.”

Christ. So much pain, the skin of his hole seared under the forced stretch, dry skin tugging. He turned all his attention to dealing with it, ignoring Jared's barbs, ignoring the wind on his face, ignoring the scrape of cement against his own chest and belly each time he thrust forward until he couldn't ignore it anymore and whimpered. “Please, Jared.”

Jared's hand stopped. He dipped his head down and spoke softly. “Say it again.”

Jensen breath shuddered, his chest burning almost as much as his small nether hole, his chin quivered as he unclenched his jaw. He had two choices, be stubborn, keep quiet and the pain would increase, and God only knew how much it would hurt to have Jared's cock shoved up into him dry, or he could swallow his pride and say a single word. It was just a word, didn't really cost him anything to say it, but it also cost his everything. Another time when Jared could bring him to that point where he would give in. He closed his eyes, forehead pressed hard to the scratching brick wall. “Please.”

Jared dropped open mouth kisses along his neck, soft and wet, tongue twirling and teasing down to where it met his shoulder then clamped down, sucking blood to the surface, murmuring softly and Jensen did nothing to stop him, nothing to discourage him because the fingers stretching and burning his asshole were not moving. By not fighting it, not struggling in some way it felt like his body had permission to respond no matter how much his brain screamed not to. When satisfied with the mark, the reaction, or perhaps the single word itself Jared finally, slowly, slid the fingers from Jensen.

When he heard the snick of a little plastic bottle opening behind him he trembled, head snapping back to look. His jaw clenched, throat working hard wanting to scream out and stop him but there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do and why the fuck was it Jared who could make him feel this helpless? Out of everyone he had ever come against, in the Center and out, only Jared could make him feel this way.

Jared's free hand with the small bottle of lube disappeared behind him and Jensen snapped his attention back to the wall before him. His balance shifted from one foot to the other, the trembling in his body intensifying, head shaking, knowing that in seconds Jared would be balls deep in him and he couldn't do a goddamn thing. “Jared, this is wrong.”

“No, it's not. You're mine.”

“ No.” It was a whimper, a cry, a declaration and a plea. It was a request and a demand and it was nothing but a soft sound on a shaky breath.

Jared hand slowly slid up Jensen's back, as if trying to calm his trembling body but it did no good. His body too tense, to guarded, knowing Jared wouldn't stop, knowing this was far from over but worst of all knowing there was nothing he could do so long as Jared's grip of his wrists was so tight and the stronger body pinned him to the wall. The hand on his back caressed higher, over his shoulder, until the fingers slowly wrapped around his throat, gentle yet threatening and lifted Jensen's chin up, the grip tightening as Jared brought their eyes to meet.

“You are mine.”

Jensen swallowed hard against the warm palm, bright wide eyes locked to his tormentors and he had to call on strength he couldn't find to keep the gaze. “I will escape. You can't keep me here forever.”

Jared shook his head slowly, totally dismissing the comment and whispered softly, “I broke you.”

The shudder came that second before Jensen could stop it. “No.”

Jared nodded softly, hazel eyes flashing. “You can lie to them, you can lie to yourself, but I felt it. In that moment, you gave everything to me. I broke you.”

The fingers tightened on his throat, locking just enough to leave breathing as a priority over talking. “And I'm going to do it again.”

There was more truth in the quiet declaration than Jensen had ever seen or heard in Jared in all the time he'd known him. Then the hand slipped down his throat, along his body, leaving a wave of heated flesh screaming out for the warmth of the touch until it pulled away. There was movement behind him before he felt the long fingers stretching his ass open, two, and then three fingers coated wet and driving into him, stroking and taunting the soft inner walls. Then they were gone and seconds later, he could hear the soft squelch of lubed flesh being stroked. Sounds, smells, and touches seared into his brain and chased away everything else, every thought or image, each memory or dream and he existed in that second as nothing, mindless and numb, afraid and overwhelmed. What shattered him the most was how he could feel the weight at his own groin, the soft, hungry throb aching harsher at the first press of the cock against his hole. He bit down hard on both lips to contain the long strained whimper as Jared pushed into him, slow, steady and not stopping until completely sheathed. Only then did Jensen breathe again, panting.

“You bastard.” he whispered again, so soft and filled with hate, so intense and helpless.

Jared’s hips moved, driving Jensen to move with him. Jared took what he wanted with slow languid thrusts, pressing the wrists high above their heads hard into the wall and gripped a hip with the other hand. He was in no rush, Jensen was sure of that. Jared would take his time and take his pleasure and draw out Jensen's shame as long as possible, pausing every few moments to twist and roll his hips, stretching him more and leaving the hard flesh to explore the depths. Jensen barely realized his eyes had fluttered close and his head had dropping back until Jared reached down and grasped Jensen's thigh, bending the knee higher up the wall and twisting his body ever so slightly, opening him up more. With a sharp drive of hips forward Jensen cried out, but it was not pain that drove through him, but pleasure. Jared pulled back and drove in again then again, each thrust pounding into his prostate. It wasn't enough for the bastard to take him like this, to rape him so aggressively against the wall of his hell but to force pleasure from him. His shame was Jared's pleasure. His misery Jared's aphrodisiac. No matter how desperately he tried to deny it, no matter how strenuously he fought to ignore it, Jensen's body listened only to the demands set forth by Jared's relentless fucking.

“That's it, bitch. Show me how much you love my cock in you.”

Jensen's head snapped hard back and forth, trying to deny but with all air reserved for breathing, he couldn't speak. As each thrust drove him further, chased him deeper into the rabbit hole of want, and need that only Jared could demand, he could no longer even think. His mind chasing what his body chased – the climax that only Jared could give him. He cried out, his ass rocking back into the man behind him, driving harder onto the cock taking him and his body stuttered, aching, his balls clenching painfully tighter. He yanked at his hands, needing them to touch, to finish what Jared started yet the bastard wouldn't let go. It wasn't fair to inflict such want and not allow him to touch and he whimpered loudly, still, thankfully, having enough of his mind not to speak.

Jared's hand released his hip and wrapped around his waist. Jensen's body jumped, hips twisting to seek out the touch even a second faster but instead of taking hold of Jensen's cock he pressed the palm against his belly, driving him back hard at the same time he thrust his cock so very deep. Hips twisted in circles, coaxing out the first deep moan from his victim.

“Fuck.” he breathed into Jensen's ear, sounding as wrecked as Jensen felt. “Look at you Jenny. So fucking hot for me.”

“Fuck you.” he hissed without any of the venom he aimed for.

The laughter was as cruel as any pain he could inflict, but it was the fingernails scratching in his pubic hair only a fraction of an inch from where his cock bobbed against his belly that was the true torture. “Goddamn it, Jay!”

Jensen never even noticed as the nickname from so many years ago rolled easily off his tongue.

“You want it then you gotta ask for it.”

The ache screaming through him made him so much weaker than he would want anyone to know, especially Jared, but it was far from a secret. As Jared's cock continued it's pounding of perfectly aimed thrusts, the fingers teased the flesh around the cock, touching everywhere but where he wanted and when finally they dipped low enough and cupped his swollen balls Jensen moaned deeper. “Oh Christ, please!”

The warm palm pulsed and teased and Jensen's hips bucked eagerly into them but still Jared would not give him what he needed and he knew it wouldn't happen until he gave to Jared first. With a frustrated howl, he finally cried out. “Okay! You win; you cock sucking, motherfucking, son of a whore!”

The bark of laughter came from the shock of listening to a man who almost never cursed so out of control, but the words just flowed out in fury, need, and desperation. “Please!” he all but screamed finally.

The hand moved closer, its heat almost touching, almost there and Jensen's hips shifted to chase after it. Jared's deep sex bruised voice growled into his ear. “Tell me your mine, Jenny. Tell me you’re my bitch or I won't do it.”

Jensen was too far gone to care at that point, but he was never too far gone to surrender himself to the bastard who sent him to hell. He gasped hard, snapping his head back, wide unseeing eyes blown wide and dark with lust.

“Fuck you, you bastard. Fuck.” His hips bucked up as the hand wrapped around his cock and he cried out, cock burning and pulsing in Jared's hand but when Jared's hand didn't move, when it just held and promised so many filthy things Jensen finally gave in. “Yours. I'm yours. Okay. Fuck, move. Please!”

He keened out the desperation and hunger as the cock continued to pound into him and teeth nibbled at his neck. He tilted his head, exposing and offering his throat to the mouth as Jared fed so hungrily, sucking and marking, and Jensen didn't care so long as the cock didn't stop thrusting deeper and deeper with each stroke and the hand moved and pulled the climax and shudders closer to the edge.

“God.” Jared hissed into his ear driving more shudders of want and need coursing directly to Jensen's cock and he could feel his balls tightening more, he could feel the balance tipping, the heat coiling in his belly like a million shivers of molten lava shooting out and rippling down his spine and the husked voice in his ear only driving him deeper and further into the insanity he could only find with Jared.

“You love this, don't you? Tell me, my little bitch; tell me how much you love me fucking you.”

“God yes!” he grunted out and that was all it took, his body clenched and shuddered and screamed and bucked, moving and motionless all at the same time and his mind screamed out the colors and shapes until he was nothing but a kaleidoscope of sensations and explosions. He could feel and hear Jared behind him, inside him, around him and through him as the cock inside him exploded and painted his walls, the new sensation to such sensitive and aware flesh pushing Jensen even deeper and his mind blanked into nothingness as the grey washed over him and he collapsed against the wall barely aware of the heavy weight of Jared crumbling over him.

There was no way he could know if he'd passed out or only a blink of a second passed, nor could he know how long the two of them lay gasped up against the wall as they crawled out of the dead zone Jared had driven them into. The first thing he became aware of was the itch at the back of his thigh as the come dribbled down and the cool night air tickled against his skin. Then the heat of Jared's heavy chest against his sweaty back, then the burn in his dry throat as he fought to catch his breath, all coming to him in a split second before his mind cranked into gear and complete understanding of what had just happened hit him harsher than any Mack truck at eighty miles an hour ever could. He bucked back suddenly, driving Jared off him in a violent thrust.

“Get off me!”

Jared stumbled back, his cock yanking out of Jensen drawing a pained hiss from the smaller man and for a heartbeat Jared seemed more confused than anything, but then he drew back and laughed, hands pulling up his pants and tucking himself in. His laughter was filled with cockiness and self-satisfaction. Jensen cringed at the sound, twisting his body to press his back against the rough wall, hands pulling up the sweatpants, trying, and failing, to ignore the warm thick liquid squishing between the cheeks of his ass. He couldn't look at Jared, his face blazing at what he had just done, the words he'd said with so little prompting, a shame deeper than anything he'd ever known.

When he was all tucked away and his pants refastened Jared stepped forward, pressing his overheated and sated body into Jensen's and despite what his mind ached to think of as a lie Jensen's body screamed out as truth and shivered in the lingering wanton need for that closeness. His eyes closed, gathering in everything he had asked for and needed, seeking out that tiny corner of his mind to shove this horrific memory. He wanted nothing more than to lock it away and never revisit it, but at the touch of Jared's palm cupping his cheek and the pressure that tilted his face, forcing their eyes to meet, Jensen knew this would never be something he could forget or escape. Jared would never allow it to happen.

“I told you that you were mine. You've always been mine.”

There were no words, no threats or condemnation, no curses or insults. Even if Jensen could do so and find some lie for Jared, he knew he could never find a lie he would himself believe. He'd wanted Jared.

He still wanted Jared.

Hell was about to get worse.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen is bombarded with consequences and schemes.

They put him in the cage in the IT room again. Again! Not that Jensen was surprised, just bored. Wouldn't the old man have figured out yet that the cages really were not doing much more than pissing him off? But no, the old son of a bitch jumped back to the tried and true as soon as Jared hauled his sorry – and sore – ass back into the hellhole called the Center. All expensive furniture, state of the art security, computers, hell, they had one of the most impressive IT departments that would rival most governments in the free world, efficient employees, well dressed executives, fancy cappuccino and coffee machines. And his cage. Jensen let out a soft sigh. At least Steve McQueen got a baseball and glove in the cooler.

The hard working employees bustling around him, making more of a point of not looking his way than they did the last time he'd been caged in the middle of the large office. Perhaps it was because Jared had left him in his t-shirt and sweatpants, and, to Jensen's horror, hadn't even allowed him to change them before shoving him inside. There was no way the stained clothes, mussed up hair, bruised and marked neck and wrists did anything other than display Jared's claim. Yet as humiliating as it was to be marked and shamed so blatantly Jensen got the feeling his latest public punishment was less than a means to abase him, but more to keep an eye on him. He kept defying the bosses, refusing and standing up to the word of 'god'. No one ever refused Mr. Parker, no one would dare, yet Jensen just kept doing it. The boss must want to make sure others don't get any bright ideas. So instead of sending him back into the basement or any other potential punishment where he'd be out of sight/out of mind, he was left where so many could see him while he waited to find out whatever else Jared and Mr. Parker could come up with to try and discourage future naughty behaviour. Jensen rolled his eyes at the thought. Like anything they could ever do would ever stop him from trying to escape. He couldn't stop the yawn as it reminded him he'd yet to sleep.

“Hey!” he called out the youngish dark haired man in the expensive suit. The man flinched, but didn't stop, no big surprise there, but it didn't stop Jensen. “Can you grab me a coffee or something?”

The man's brown eyes widened and his mouth gaped a bit; Jensen couldn't help but laugh as he scurried off like a little rat. A woman, maybe in her early thirties wearing one of those pencil skirts and corset style jackets that always made him wonder how the hell she could sit comfortable moved into the room, four inch stilettos clicking as she neared. She looked like a no-nonsense ball busting type and he called out.

“Sweetheart. I'll trade my eternal gratitude for a coffee. Be a darling.” Her head snapped to the side and her path veered off instantly. He leaned forward, hands dropping to the bar and raised his voice a bit. “Come on, someone, please. Just a coffee. I'll tell the boss you were kind to the pet.”

No one even looked over.

He sighed again. Okay, so no one would get him coffee. And it wasn't as he'd be able to nap with all the activity around him. Actually, if he was honest with himself, which he was purposely not being at that moment, it was the activity in the back of his mind that was the reason he wouldn't be able to nap. It was almost ten o'clock and he'd yet to see Jeff. The man was nothing if not punctual and was always at his desk by eight. Circumstances prevented him from asking someone where he was. Last thing he could do was start making inquiries and put the spotlight on what Mr. Parker would definitely see as someone aiding and abetting the enemies of the Center. All he could do was wait and hope and he was quickly running out of hope as the clock just kept on ticking.

“And what exactly would you do for a coffee?”

Jensen's head jerked to the side, following the voice to find the dark face of the large man dressed in the regulation security uniform – dark blue over dark blue, muscular, having spent too much time in a gym, brown hair cropped short to match his brown eyes and a double thick bandage crossing over his nose. Jensen dropped his back against the bars behind him and went for casual. He shrugged. “Well, I guess I could apologize for breaking your nose.”

The man huffed out an un-amused smile. “You've got a fucking smart mouth on you.”

“Are you still mad at me for our little scuffle? Tell you what. Add two sugars to the coffee and I'll even say thanks.”

“Bet I could get more out of you than that.”

Jensen leaned forward placing both hands on the bars between himself and the guard and gave them a shake that did nothing to move the cage. “See a little flaw in your plan there, grumpy.”

The guard held out his hand to reveal a key ring hanging loose on his finger, shaking the dangling key. Jensen felt his heart flip over and leaned back. Oh, this could not be good, he thought, dropping backwards against the bars again. The guard grinned at his reaction and stepped forward, unlocking the door. Jensen shifted to keep as far away from it, wrapping his hands around the bars, not planning to make anything easier for the jackass.

“Get out. Boss wants you upstairs in your room.”

Shit. Jensen's mind whirled quickly, zipping through options and needs. Mr. Parker was angry, that's a given, and making him angrier had a high probability of making things much worse for a longer time. Even if Jensen did fight this one guard, surely he could send down half a dozen to get what he wanted. Besides, Jensen really needed to find out what was going on with Jeff.

He crawled forward and pushed himself out of the cage, rising to stand before the guard. He held up his hands in a loose surrender and smiled. “Do I get coffee for good behavior?”

The guard pulled out a set of handcuffs and held them up. “How good you going to be?”

“Oh hell. Is that really necessary?”

With an angry glare, the guard just pointed to his bandaged nose. Jensen rolled his eyes but he turned around and crossed his wrists at the small of his back. “It's not like I attacked first. Hell, I was only defending myself.”

With a double click of titanium steel around both wrists clenching tight the guard grabbed the small chain and jerked back, locking Jensen in place and leaned in. “And I was only doing my job.”

Jensen didn't like the closeness but what he hated was how instantly vulnerable he felt. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Well, if you get me a coffee I'll forgive you.”

A rough hand shoved the middle of his back hard sending him stumbling forward a few steps. “Just move, smart ass.”

Jensen stole a glance back then did as he was told. The meaty palm soon wrapping around his arm to direct him, not too tight, not anywhere near as tight, or possessive as Jared had done when dragging him around at any point. This was professional, proficient and in that single act alone Jensen felt a little of his trepidation ease away. The man might still be pissed for the broken nose or him and his buddies having been on the receiving end of a few good shots but he didn't seem to be holding a grudge. The destination filled his mind again, not the journey as they stepped into the elevator. He'd expected a trip to the top floor, Mr. Parker's office, or to be taken directly downstairs. Going back to his own room where he'd already made two escape attempts lacked logic, it seriously did not make sense, but what really surprised him the most was that it was neither Misha, his handler of the week, nor Jared, his tormentor for his time in hell, were there to fetch him.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor and again the guard pulled on his arm leading him down the very familiar path. Jensen stole a quick glance to the man beside him. Unsurprising there was nothing to find in the expression to give away what he should expect. Wasn't really like the big man to confide in lowly guards anyway. Pausing at the door, the guard turned him around, as was custom to keep him from seeing the code punched into the door's automatic lock. As the door opened, the guard's strong hand gripped his arm tighter, bruising tight, and shoved Jensen so hard he stumbled into the room.

“The hell?” he snapped at the unexpected assault, righting himself quickly. It was only then he saw the room was not empty. The three guards he had not bested that day he'd faked an escape stood waiting in his room. The door behind him shut hard and Jensen spun, wrists twisting in the tight cuffs. Instinct moved him more than logic as his mind scanned quickly through every possible reason the four guards had him alone and cuffed in his room – his sound proofed, locked room. Each possibility worse than the last. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the panic.

“What's going on?”

The guard who'd brought him upstairs, the one with the broken nose answered, forcing Jensen's attention back to him. “Mr. Parker gave us an assignment,” he said evenly, stepping forward. Jensen stepped back, noting the distance to the others. He clenched his jaw, pulling on the cuffs uselessly, shifting to the side, but as he moved but so did the others, each keeping their distance slowly spreading out, circling him. He licked his lips nervously. This was not good. This was really, not good.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, almost distracted, focused on the others, eyes scanning over bodies, size, shape, looking for weaknesses or vulnerabilities, letting survival instinct dictate as he tried to assess the danger. He did not like his conclusions.

“We're to find out who helped you with your little stunt last night.”

Jensen cursed silently. “Right. And if no one did them I'm really screwed, aren't I?”

The guard laughed, as did the others and Jensen's head snapped and twisted around, trying to keep each movement in sight but unable to keep an eye on all at the same time. They were in front and behind as well as spanning his sides, surrounded and cuffed, their laughter sending terrified chills up his spine. The first guard spoke again. “Oh, you are gonna get screwed anyway, but from what I hear a little bitch like you will probably like that.”

Jensen felt his stomach plunge. “So I guess this means no coffee.”

The men laughed and moved in on their prey.

 

Jared's fingers danced over the keys at his laptop finishing his final report of the night’s events. He'd already spoken briefly to Mr. Parker concerning Jensen's latest botched escape, but before he finished it, he paused and just stared at the written words for a long minute. It wasn't the black and white writing he saw or the quiet music of his radio he heard. His mind filled with thoughts of Jensen. The way he'd moved under him, the restrained whimpers, the twitching of his hips, the gasping moans, the way he'd opened his throat to Jared's mouth, the reticent want until finally he'd let go and screamed out every need and begged for Jared. The heat of his body had been scalding and the hunger damn near devoured Jared. Damned near devoured them both. He'd never felt anything like it before and couldn't wait to feel it again. He had to have Jensen, had to claim him and use him and make him his so completely. Surely the boss would let him, would put Jared back as his handler since Jared was the only reason they still had their hands on Jensen. He'd proven that above any others, he knew Jensen best and he could manipulate Jensen in ways no one else could. He'd tried to show it in his report, a report he'd had to rewrite four times since each time came out sounding more like a letter to Hustler than to one's boss. He'd tried being clinical, he'd tried being exact, but it was impossible to do without explaining what exactly happened. Putting into words what had passed between them, explaining how Jensen gave in and gave up the pretences he'd used to fight Jared and desperately tried to hide from not only Jared but also himself.

Then there was the other issue, the issue Jared had not added to or even referenced in his report. Jeff Morgan. He really had no idea if Jeff had helped Jensen. There was no evidence. The only conversation, as Jensen himself had pointed out, had been witnessed, and reported. A confidence gaining exercise as Misha turned in. Jared had read the detailed report of the conversation. There was nothing other than a vague reference to the east garage. He needed to know.

Minimizing his report, he clicked a few keys and another window opened. The logs for the garage. He scrolled down to the approximate time and found what he was looking for.

Jeff Morgan. Entered: Thurs. 7:46 am. Exit: Fri: 12:06 am.

“Shit.” he sighed sadly. Too close. Too convenient. Too bad. He liked Morgan, but if Morgan is working against the Center’s interest than the boss needed to know.

As Jared lifted his coffee to his lips there was a light tapping on his office door and Jared called out. “Come in.”

His door opened and the new handler stepped in, spreading his legs slightly and planting himself firmly before the desk, sharp blue eyes scanning quickly and adeptly over the desk and walls, a bare blink at each picture and plaque, the briefest pause at the Nerf basketball hoop over the wastebasket. Jared absently wondered how much the man missed in that gaze, if anything. The man in the blue suit and head full of dark flyaway curls spoke. “Jared, my name is Misha.”

Jared leaned back in his chair and sipped the steaming hot coffee carefully, taking his own minute to study the man before him, eyes rolling from top to bottom then slowly up again, sizing him up. Instead of looking uncomfortable under such scrutiny, as almost everyone did when Jared inflicted it, Misha's face showed only calm, perhaps only slight curiosity at best. Misha didn't look like much of a threat but that never meant anything in the Center.

“Yeah, I know. Jensen's new handler.”

Misha nodded his head once. He broke eye contact, lowering his eyes. Jared had to wonder. A moment of hesitation? A question he was unsure how to ask? There was something not right about it, not dishonest, just not right, that Jared couldn't place. He took another sip of his coffee and replaced the cup on his desk, remaining quiet, choosing to wait out the man before him. Finally, Misha raised his eyes again and met Jared's gaze.

“An order has been given and I cannot protect Jensen. I have neither standing nor reputation here yet to interfere.”

“So you come to me?”

“I didn't know whom else to turn to. Jeff Morgan is subject to inquiry and Mr. Parker is determined to gain answers, without fully appreciating the consequences.”

Jared felt the patter in his chest, eyes narrowing on the man before him. “What did he order?”

“The guards...” Misha paused briefly, his own eyes seeming to focus more deeply on Jared. “They are to find out from Jensen if Morgan helped last night. Whatever means necessary.”

“What? Fuck!” Jared was out of his chair and moving before the words were out, Misha hot on his trail, and the two men moved as quickly as possible. Jared's fingers banged and the elevator button several times, eyes snapping up to check which number lit its present location, then slammed at the door when he saw it was on the fourth floor.

“Where?” Barely controlled fury screamed in his quiet voice.

“His suite”

Jared glanced over, brows furrowing him. “Torture?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Misha.” hissed Jared in dangerous warning. The doors opened and they stepped in, Jared first hitting the button for the eighth floor then the one to close the doors. Misha released a slight sigh. “They are to use a method you yourself found successful.”

“Jesus Christ!” he snapped. Jared's wide chest was heaving slow deliberate breaths, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, and he did everything not to vent his frustration at the perceived slowness of the elevator's rise on the man beside him. Mr. Parker was making a huge mistake. Monumentally huge. He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath and forced himself to calm down. The elevator dinged and he was out through the doors and halfway down the hall before they'd fully opened. His fingers jammed at the panel and as soon as the lock clicked, it opened and he flew inside. The burst of noises, Jensen's frightened barking voice, and that of his tormentors derision and laughter stopped the second the door flung open. The sight before Jared stopped him in his tracks.

Jensen was on the floor on his knees, arms locked behind his back, face red and marked, blood seeping from his nose and a split lip; obviously, he'd taken a few punches and was not going down easy despite the situation being a no-win scenario. His shirt ripped almost in half and hanging off his shoulder, jeans half shoved down to his thighs being forced further by the man behind him and it was obvious even in their frozen state at the sight of Jared that no matter how hard Jensen fought there was no way he could prevent what was meant to happen. Another guard stood before him, gripping Jensen's hair in one hand, pants down and thick hard cock held in his other. Two other men stood nearby, ready to help their friends or take their turn.

“You're not supposed to be here,” snapped the guard holding Jensen's hair, Jared noticing the bandages on the man's nose, placing him from the garage incident.

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of here before he...” he twitched his thumb towards Misha, “calls the infirmary to tell them to expect your sorry asses.” Jared's voice so hissed cold that in an instant the temperature in the room might have dropped ten degrees. Misha took a step back and reached around the door to pick of the phone just outside, making it very clear he was prepared to make that call.

The guard threw Jensen's head down and without his hands to brace the fall Jensen crumpled to the floor with a grunt. The guard tucked his cock away and stepped forward. “You're going against the boss.”

Jared stepped further inside and stood hovering over the man by at least three inches, his face a breath away, control slipping fast, his fists clenched, ready, and eager. “He's mine. Nobody fucking touches him but me.”

“But Mr. Parker said...”

“I don't give a fuck what Parker said! Get the fuck out now!” he bellowed.

“Jared!”

Jared spun around to see Mr. Parker stepping past Misha, Jeff right behind him. Jeff assessing the situation quickly, first eyeing Jared, but his controlled calm fizzled the moment he spotted Jensen. 

“Oh Christ, no!” he cursed softly. He took a half step forward, and then stopped, stealing a glance at the Center’s director, a fierce battle waged behind his eyes but he still didn't move. Jeff was already in a very precarious situation and had to tread carefully around Parker. Jared almost cursed him aloud for not rushing to Jensen's side.

Jared's jaw twitched, unsure what his next move was. Bellowing and bullying a few guards was one thing but overtly disobeying an order given by the man himself was a completely different issue altogether.

Mr. Parker moved in closer to him, his eyes angry, dark, and full of promises of punishment. “Report!” he snapped.

Jared spoke first. “Sir, I...”

“Not you!” Parker turned to the senior guard. “Get my answer?”

“Not yet, sir. We were interrupted.”

“I see.” He took a deep breath, his eyes moving around and taking in each man around him, settling finally on Jensen on the floor, still exposed but leaning more on his side, the leg on top bent to cover his nakedness. Jensen, who had remained surprisingly silent, yet watched everything, eyes jumping back and forth between Jared and Mr. Parker. The old man finally broke the silence and motioned the guards. “Leave us.”

The guards left quickly. The remaining men, Jensen, Jared, Jeff, Misha, and Mr. Parker didn't move until they were gone but as soon as the door closed, Jeff was at Jensen's side. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he cursed as he helped Jensen move, pulling up his jeans as soon as he was able then helping him to his feet. Jared wanted to push him away, he was no longer Jensen's handler, and Jensen no longer belonged to him. Instead, he moved closer to Parker.

“This is not the way,” said Jared, quietly.

“I need the answer, Jared. You of all people know how important trust is in our house. I needed to know if I could trust Jeff.”

“This was about me?” asked Jeff, pausing only briefly to zip up Jensen's jeans and buckled the belt. The shirt was a write off.

“I needed to know if you helped the boy last night,” explained Parker calmly, as if it made perfect sense considering what almost happened.

“You yanked me out of bed in the middle of the night, drag me here and have me in interrogation for hours and that wasn't good enough for you? You didn't get your answer then?”

“You could have been lying, Jeffery. You are quite efficient at that. And I know your boy wouldn't give you up easily.”

Before he even knew he was going to open his mouth, Jared spoke up. “He wasn't lying.”

All eyes turned to him yet Jared's were on Jensen. He could see the betrayal, hurt and fear lingering in his wide green eyes. Betrayal, hurt and fear that Jared did not cause. Damage from strangers, from assholes who couldn't possibly appreciate what they had, assholes who would never understand what anything they took or Jensen gave could mean. When he realized they were all looking at him he blinked several times tearing away his gaze and face to his boss. “He's not lying, sir.”

“Explain?”

“I checked the logs. Morgan left at 12:06. Jensen didn't slip out that window until almost ten past. No way Jensen could have made it through the gate or off the grounds by foot and if you check the security tapes Morgan didn't even slow down as he left the property. He wasn't waiting.”

Jensen and Morgan exchanged ever so quick glances as Mr. Parker stepped in closer to face off with Jared. Jared held his gaze. “Are you sure, son?”

“Absolutely, sir.” He glanced to Jensen then back to his boss. Jesus, he was going way out on a limb here. “You read Misha's report, sir. You know they didn't have time to plan anything. At best that was them saying goodbye.” 

“You reported that?” demanded Jensen accusingly.

“Of course, Jensen. I never said I wouldn't.” Misha answered.

“Asshole.” he hissed under his breath.

“Focus.” warned Jeff quietly. Then raised his voice to Parker. “So are finally going to accept the truth, Parker?”

Mr. Parker turned to Jeff and Jensen, spending a long moment watching them carefully, looking for a lie in their eyes, a twitch, or blink to expose them but both men held his gaze with confidence. Then he glanced back and held Jared's gaze for another long moment. The tension in the room almost palpable, Jared fighting the need to hold his breath or swallow, counting each blink of his own eyes, anything that he knew could give him away, holding the truth and fear so close to his chest, knowing that with the slightest cause Parker can order his death, their deaths. Or worse. Without breaking eye contact with Jared, Mr. Parker spoke. Gone was the affable charismatic man from whom Jared had learned so much, replaced by the cruel decisive dictator so many people feared more than respected. “Misha.”

Misha stepped in closer. “Yes, sir?”

“Am I being lied to?”

Misha took his turn studying each man in the room, his eyes skipping Jeff quickly but lingering on Jensen and Jensen turned to face his newest handler, his eyes narrowing, lips curling back in a sneer, showing exactly how he felt concerning the perceived betrayal. Misha's face remained an emotionless mask, and then turned to face Jared. Jared broke his gaze with Parker and met Misha without hesitation. He didn't get why the old man had asked the new handler but somehow he knew Misha's answer held weight. Even more confusing was the fact that it had been Misha who'd led Jared into the mess. Jared held his gaze, feeling the eyes penetrating him, deeper than flesh and bone and Jared's heart quickened. Misha could see the lie; he could see it in the clear azure eyes, the way they held his, narrowed just the slightest bit. Misha somehow knew. Misha broke away and turned his full attention to Parker.

“It is my opinion, sir, that Jeffery Morgan had nothing to do with the events of last night and Jensen's attempt to escape.”

Parker arched a brow, paused the briefest of moments to absorb the information, and then bellowed out his familiar laugh. “Well, that's great to hear.”

Jared's heart pounded in his chest, he caught Misha’s eyes for another quick second, and he was stunned. He was so sure. Parker moved to Jensen, friendly hand patting his back. “So glad we were able to sort out this little confusion before anything unpleasant could happen?”

“Unpleasant?” balked Jensen. “You son of a bitch! I was almost...”

“Hush.” commanded Jeff, eyes catching the one he'd protected for so long. “It's over. Let it go.”

“That's great advice, boy.” smiled Parker. “Should listen to Jeff, he's a smart man. Besides, this isn't exactly over, is it? I still have to figure out what to do with you after last night.”

“You can accept that I'll never give you what you want and let me go.” snapped Jensen.

Jared spoke up. “I have a few ideas if you want, sir.”

“Fuck that.” growled Jensen.

Mr. Parker raised a brow, pondering it. “Someone helped him last night. Seems it wasn't Jeff but someone did.”

“I know.” said Jared evenly.

“We need to find out who it was. We need to keep our house clean.”

Jared's patience ran very thin, his skin prickling with frustration of having Jensen dangled before him and taken away, of touching then losing, of feeling the power then such impotence and Parker's manipulations and threats no longer stayed his temper. He turned and faced the only man he really feared and released every bit of frustration in the burn of his hazel eyes. “Yeah. Someone helped him. He'd been playing us, planning escapes, and somehow finding ways to communicate with someone he shouldn't. You don't need idiot guards and stupid plans to get your answers. Stop kissing his ass with babysitters and put him with a handler he'll obey. Give him back to me.”

“No!” barked Jensen louder, moving closer, his shoulders twisting as he fought the cuffs, snapping at Jeff quieter. “Get these damn things off me.”

Jared and Mr. Parker stared each other down and Jared could barely breathe. He'd never stood up to the man before, he'd learned young to never make demands and had he had time to think about it, Jared would never had spoken as he did, but he'd done it. It was too late and he'd be damned if he would show weakness and back down. He leaned closer, lowering his voice into barely a whisper. “Please.”

Parker nodded slowly. “Very well. Finish your report of last night's events and then get me my damn answers.”

“No, goddamn it. You do that and I'll fight harder,” growled Jensen. Jeff's grip on his arm pulling him back did little to hide Jensen's fury. Parker ignored him but Jared didn't. Pulling his key ring from his pocket, he found a handcuff key and moved behind Jensen, grabbing the chain and stilling him. He hissed, the sound dangerous and commanding despite barely being a whisper. “Don't push this right now.”

“Jeffrey.” said Parker as he headed to the door. “We have a meeting to finish.”

Jeff furious eyes shooting to Jared and he gave Jensen a soft squeeze on his shoulder before following the older man out. Parker paused at the door. “Jared, I expect your report within the hour.”

“Of course, sir.”

The door closed behind them.

“You son of a bitch!”

Jared unlocked the cuffs. “Get over it, bitch. I just saved your fucking ass. Literally and figuratively. You owe me big.”

The second he was free Jensen spun around and yelled, hands instinctively rubbing the circulation back into his wrist. “You think because you come in here and play hero and stop others from doing what you already did to me that I somehow owe you? Screw that! I owe you nothing!”

Jared's immediate and abrupt movements put him in Jensen's face and he smirked deep and dark, hovering, driving an almost immediate shudder through Jensen that Jared could all but feel. He kept his voice quiet, words just for the two of them, but in their simplicity was pure threat. “Not for that.”

Jared's green eyes widened slightly and no matter how hard he tried to hide it Jared saw the abject fear in him. That's when Jared realized that for the first time he finally had tangible power over Jensen that even Jensen couldn't run from. Real power the other man couldn't fight, reject, or ignore. It send a sizzling burst of volcanic fire through his veins and his whole body surged, his whole being, a sexual pleasure well past the flesh and blood and his heart pounded in his chest in ways it never had before. A grin spread across his cheeks, his eyes devouring the misery in Jensen's face, the near panic in his eyes as his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

Jensen turned his head away and closed his eyes away. His voice was quieter but just as determined. “I owe you nothing.”

Jared chuckled deeply at the impotent words and looked again as Jensen's face. Bruises just under the skin no doubt darkening and soon his face would be a mess of colors, blood no longer trickling, drying in wiggled lines and occasional smudges, clothes torn, rumpled. His stepped back, eyes turned on Misha and he snapped. “Clean him up.”

He left the room. He had a report to finish, plans to make, punishment to plan. In addition, a blue eyed stranger to figure out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has an agenda

Jensen watched as Jared walked out then turned his heated gaze on Misha. Despite every fiber of his being aching to scream and yell, he kept silent. He was confused. He was frightened. He was terrified and beyond confused. He knew exactly what time he'd slipped out of Ms. Parker's window and would seriously doubt the time was something Jared would get wrong. Which meant he'd lied to the older man. Which mean Jared lied to the old man for Jensen and Jeff. Which made absolutely no sense. Still he'd done it. Jensen had seen it in his eyes as surely as if the hazel-eyed bastard had screamed the words out instead. Jared holding something like that over Jensen was an incredibly powerful weapon to gain compliance. Not for anyone else. The only thing anyone else wanted from him Jensen would refuse, even if it meant sacrificing Jeff – Jeff would never forgive him if he did otherwise – but Jared didn't want what everyone else wanted. It wasn't just about Jensen getting back to work, it wasn't about sacrificing other people, it wasn't even about sacrificing his beliefs. For a moment, Jensen contemplated other possible scenarios. It could have been a play, a setup, a manipulative game to put Jeff on the line as Parker had threatened all those weeks ago, but if it was, Parker wasn't in on it. Something about the whole situation, Misha's actions included, made Jensen think Mr. Parker was the only one who'd been in the room who wasn't in on it. There was no way for Misha to really know the truth, though, the way he'd studied both Jared and Jensen, how he'd ignored Jeff, something was very off about that. On the other hand, maybe there wasn't and Jensen was just exhausted, seeing enemies everywhere. Maybe Misha didn't lie but Jared obviously did and he'd lied to the fucking director of the Center, a completely unforgivable act, punishable by the worst consequences. Jensen really needed time to work this through.

He looked up, remembered Misha was still in the room, and let the heat burn his words, fighting to stay in control when everything felt so out of control. “You son of a bitch. You set me up?”

Misha's head cocked to the side and his startlingly soft blue eyes searched Jensen's. “How so?”

“How so?” The effort not to yell failed him. “You setup the damned meeting and then you reported it. What was with all the bonding crap you laid on me?”

“Jensen, I don't see what I did wrong. You asked to meet with Jeff and I arranged it. I also have duties and responsibilities. Had a chance meeting between yourself and your former handler not been reported and Mr. Parker found out, the consequences would have been quite dire. It would have caused greater suspicion. I would be removed as your handler and punished, and you and Jeff Morgan would have been interrogated much more seriously?”

Damn, that logic was too sound. “Oh, and almost getting gang raped isn't your idea of serious?”

“That would have been quite serious had it happened. Good thing Jared stopped it in time.”

Jensen's eyes narrowed and he listened. He listened not only to what Misha said but also what he didn't say, he watched his face, looking for the familiar traits of emotion but found nothing but the calm blandness that was always there. He wanted to growl at how impossible it was to read the man in front of him. “Yeah, about that. How did Jared know what was going on?”

“I am quite new here and don't know him well, but I assume, like most men in his position, Jared is attuned to the events around him. I'm sure there is not much that happens in this building of which he is not aware.”

“That's not an answer, Misha.”

“Well perhaps if you ask him directly then he might give an answer you would prefer.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. Like that would ever happen. The last thing Jensen wanted was to speak to Jared after the night before, but he knew that was not going to be an option. Jared's victory the night before had been too great for him not to flaunt or take advantage. Add to that Jared lying for him, something that locked the two together on another level, both holding a secret that could cost the other his life, left Jensen with little self-delusion that Jared would not come to collect. The only question really was whether Jared would attempt to collect to gain the answers Parker wanted. Jensen needed to think, he needed to plan his next steps. The ground beneath him was crumbling faster than he could scramble, and with Jared soon returning to interrogate, or punish, or whatever he planned to get an answers they both already had, Jensen had no idea how he was supposed to get out of that.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Look, I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm beat to hell so if you don't mind, just ...” he shook his head, trying to bite back his own frustration and anger, trying to breathe again now that the adrenaline of what almost happened faded, still unsure if Misha was a liar and manipulator, whether he was a betrayer or a confused ally. “... just go away.”

“As you wish. Do I need to remind you to stay out of the air ducts?”

Jensen just glared at him. Misha's lips twitched into a slight smile. “Right. You don't like to repeat yourself.”

 

Cold hazel eyes moved from monitor to monitor watching the solitary figure stroll his way through the complex. The subject was not moving quickly or with any sense of urgency, and in fact didn't seem to have a settled destination. Perhaps no more than getting the lay the building, exploring, or maybe he was just taking some private time. Either way, Jared had been watching him from central security for going on an hour and he still wasn't sure what he was seeing. The same casually handsome man who had entered his office several hours earlier in an attempt, or so it seemed, to stop Jensen's assault, but there was something darker, something confusing and Jared didn't like being confused. Unlike Jensen, though, he was more the type to deal with a problem head on than spend hours trying to analyze the hell out of it. He waited until it was time, until he could take advantage of a building he'd grown up in, a building that held no secrets or unexplored dark corners. When finally Misha turned in a once very familiar section Jared left to security room.

Sub-basement three, quiet and rarely used, extra rooms and suits, a small fiction library, play room for children, and a little cinema, a section reserved for emergencies when personal was restricted leave, recently under construction which caused a security cameras to be useless or turned off.

Misha came around a corner and Jared stepped in front of him, the two men almost colliding. Misha offered a quick nod in greeting. “Jared.”

He stepped aside to go around. Jared moved in front of him, blocking his path, leaving no more than a couple of inches between them. With serious muscled weight and five inches hovering over him, Misha had no choice but to look up to meet Jared's gaze. Jared just stared down, knowing the image he offered, the power and strength he used every day of his life to bully people, but instead of seeing caution in the smaller man, Misha just cocked his head.

“You do not intimidate or frighten me, Jared.”

Jared smirked, yeah, like he'd never heard that before. “Is that so?”

Misha looked around the passageway a little, scanning over walls and ceiling then back again. “Am I to assume this is one of those blind spots you and Jensen used when younger?”

Jared's smirk spread, the glint reaching his eyes. “Uh huh. No cameras here, sound proof rooms and vacant floor. Perfectly private for you and me to get to know each other better.”

“And what would you do with this privacy should I not respond appropriately?” He arched a brow, blue eyes locked to hazel. “Would you beat me? Rape me? Kill me?”

Jared chuckled; he could actually enjoy this bluster for a moment or two. No way could it be anything else. Surely, Misha knew he wouldn't stand a chance against Jared no matter his training. “Out of those three, which would you prefer?”

“None, but if you feel it relevant to ensure your dominance might I suggest we find a carpeted floor as it would be easier on our knees?”

Jared licked his lips and let his wolfish eyes flicker down the body. He leaned in, dipping his head to whisper heatedly into Misha's ear. “Is that what you want, Misha? Want to bend over for me? Want to feel my hard cock ramming into your tiny hole?”

“I have no desires for that from you or anyone else. I would prefer you tell me what it is you really want. Ask your questions, Jared. There's no need for this.”

Jared took a half step back, his smirk fading and it was his turn to cock his head. There really was no fear in Misha's eyes, his stance had not changed, the inflection of voice as calm as ever. Misha was opening a door for him, making an offer and it was up to Jared to decide whether he wanted to walk through the door and accept. He'd already done one incredibly stupid thing that day but there was a line of safety. The only two people in the universe who knew without a doubt Jared had lied to the most dangerous man he knew were as culpable as he was. If one went down, they all went down. Misha had offered an opinion, no more. He could always walk away. However, there was something...

“You lied.” Jared accused suddenly, quietly. He didn't elaborate, didn't need to, but if this was some kind of trap he could still talk his way out of it and pretend he was discussing something else. Misha's lips curled in a crooked smile. “I did. So did you.”

Jared blinked. There was no way Misha should know that. “Why?”

“Because that was not what I was hired to do.”

“You're a handler?” Jared's gaze lilted to the side and he thought of some of the things he'd seen in the last few days, Misha's behavior, reactions, actions towards Jensen. He answered his own question. “You're not a handler.” Stare turning hard. “Who are you?”

“My name is Misha, and like you I have no last name.”

“Raised by The Center.” Not a question. None of the children raised in the Center knew their last names; it was one of the first things drummed out of them. Never given one as their own, they were property, beings of unique skill, lives defined by and subject to those who command them.

“The one in Rome.” confirmed Misha, “Since I was four.”

“That would explain why your English is a little...off.”

The tiniest twitch of eyebrows spoke volumes of disappointment. “It is?”

Jared shrugged, “It's a little formal.”

“Hmm. I shall work harder on that then.”

“What are you?”

“ Empath.”

“Empath?” he gasped, stunned. 

“Yes. An empath is trained to understand human emotion and predict behavior, responses, determining falsehoods, misrepresentation, specializing in the psyche, breaking it down, building it up. We are used in negotiation, interrogation, subterfuge...”

Jared cut him off. “I know what a fucking empath is.” Agents of Jared’s caliber were not common, assets like Jensen even rarer, but empaths were often considered a myth there were so few of them. He hesitated then added softer. “Just never met one before.” 

No wonder the old man asked his opinion and relied on him with Jensen. Jensen was hard to read even when one knew him well, intelligent, and trained, a dangerous combination with a stubborn streak to drive anyone up a wall. Near impossible to manipulate and too damn ethical to bribe. He released a dark sigh. “You were brought in to break Jensen, get him back to work.”

“No. I was brought in to observe and determine what would be required to break him. I make recommendations. That's all.”

“So why'd you lie. You know damned well Jeff was waiting for him last night.”

“It was irrelevant and distracting. Focus must remain on Jensen. Jensen's focus must remain on Jensen. Jeff's no threat to the Center but Mr. Parker would never see it that way. Punishing him for helping the one he thinks of as son would only give Jensen more reason to fight.”

“Their meeting... they lied right in front of you and set the whole thing up. Did you know he was going to try to escape?”

“There was a high probability. I wasn't able to decipher their code but I could feel there was one. Jensen's emotional state was completely different, hope instead of despair, focused thought rather than random search for answers, but I was also sure you would be there waiting for him. He had properly motivated you.”

Jared arched a brow. “You were that sure?”

“I was.”

“Read minds?”

Misha blinked slowly and it was perhaps the most emotion Jared had seen on the smaller man. “I learned the same as you. How did you learn to intimidate, abuse, beat a man down, Jared? How did you learn how to rape?”

Jared's eyes flickered away for split second before he could stop himself, and he knew despite his small effort to hide his reaction he had no secrets from the other man. Misha nodded softly and there was the softest slant in his unemotional face. “What your handler did to you, how he taught you, the hands on approach, they do the same with us. Children sensitive to the emotions of others are separated and trained intensively. Empaths deal with the darkest of emotions but an emotional empath is useless. So with part of our training we are subjected to every emotion humanly possible, some inflicted on us; abuse, neglect, rape, torture, separation or death of those we care about, some we are forced to watch; the most violent murders in the most heinous methods, more torture, dismemberment, every sexual and physical violation possible, some we are forced to commit. We become numb to our own emotions, our own humanity and become observers instead.” Then after a beat, he added. “Or go crazy. Most do, actually.”

“The lucky ones, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

“Fuck. And I thought we had it bad.”

“Once the training is completed, we don't feel guilt or regret, love or hate, but we are left with an insatiable appetite for what others endure and how they feel. It's our last connection to our own humanity.”

“I guess that's what makes you extremely useful.”

“Indeed.” He paused for a moment, watching Jared's reaction to all he'd been told and Jared knew that no matter how well trained he was in schooling his thoughts and expression Misha saw under the facade, saw that which he hid from everyone. “Your original operation with Jensen when you were children was an experiment from a division like mine.”

“You know about that?”

“I have been given all pertinent information regarding all those from Jensen's life. Your name came up often. You didn't follow protocol, though, did you?”

Shrugging a shoulder Jared turned to lean against the wall. He suddenly felt foolish using evasive methods. “Wasn't working. He was a pussy, afraid of everything, everyone.”

Misha's lips twisted in his little imitation of a smile. “You enjoyed dominating him, threatening him, controlling him. It was your first taste of authority.”

“First time I wasn't the one on the receiving end. So yeah, it felt good.”

“Did you get into trouble the first time you pushed him to his knees?”

Jared shrugged as if it was nothing. “Whipped. Used.”

“Yet you kept going back. You kept using him. The more they did to you the more you inflicted on him.”

Scoffing, Jared shook his head. “No. Wasn't like that. I wasn't punishing him for what they did to me. I was used to that. The brainiacs had it so easy. Pampered, catered to, they didn't have to fight for extra food or get stuck in the hotbox if they screwed up in training, but it wasn't about hurting him. He was so desperate, lonely, shy, timid, and afraid of everything, of screwing up, of displeasing everyone. For years it had been just him and his handler, everything was about training and studying, using that big brain of his. He just wanted someone to talk with, hang out. He wanted a friend. He let me do anything I wanted so long as I promised to be his friend. I didn't believe him, thought he was like everyone else, just fucking with me, trying to act all superior because he's so smart. In the barracks, everyone has an agenda, we didn't survive without one, and so I figured he was the same. Besides, I had an assignment, my first one. I had to prove myself, show I could get this kid to do what I said, but he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't leave his suite.”

“You found a way to make him listen.”

“Yeah. I yelled at him and threatened to never come back and he did what I wanted.”

“According to the agenda you were supposed to introduce him to sex and create an emotional and physical dependence.”

“Yeah well, maybe they should have taught me a different kind of sex.” he snapped harshly. “Look, I was young; I didn't know how to use force and coercion appropriately. It wasn't the bullshit manipulative care the handlers gave us or the competitive backstabbing I got from other kids. Jensen wanted to be with me. In fact, the more I did to him the more he wanted me, the harder he tried to please me. And yeah, I love that. It was working. Results were higher than expected. By then the old man was watching, never said anything but I could tell. He started treating me different. More privileges, more food, more gym time. Things I liked. Started putting me in charge of other kids, trusted me to do what needed to be done, take care of things for him.”

“What happened then, Jared?”

Jared's fingers of both hands combed through his hair, catching at the edges near the nape of his neck, holding, pulling it until he felt the sting of his scalp. He licked his lips. This was the first time he'd ever spoken of those days, ever, to anyone. Dreams and nightmares he still carried. He dropped his hands, shrugging again as if it all didn't matter but his eyes dropped and he stared at the floor as he spoke. “I took it too far. He wasn't showing up when he was supposed to, made dumbass excuses. It'd only been hand jobs and blowjobs up 'til then, used to love making him come while he did it because he'd get so embarrassed, so needy. He was so fucking adorable.” Jared scratched the side of his head, grinning, remembering. The smile from his lips fading. “But he was pulling away, stopped talking to me, wasn't seeking me out, and didn’t seem happy to see me when I went to him. I was losing him. I knew it, could feel it. That night, the last night, I was really pissed. So I made him strip, made him hard, and took him with nothing but spit.”

The two men were quiet for a long moment, Jared lost in his thoughts, eyes flickering closed and almost feeling Jensen's young body under his trembling and thrusting back to take everything Jared wanted to give, reaching under him and forcing out even more shame as he made Jensen come while it happened, despite the sobs and pained gasps. After three years of friendship, one of which was spent exploring each other and learning every inch of his charge's body, Jared knew how to use it, manipulate it, he still did. Jared had had other lovers over the years, both male and female, and there had been many, but he had never known such hunger and passion in himself, never felt such need, not even from those he took and used and hurt for his job. It had always been Jensen he'd thought of and seen in his minds-eye when taking another. His voice came out so soft he doubted Misha could hear him. “I screwed up.”

Jared rubbed his hands over his face, pulling himself back to the here and now. 

Misha's voice was quiet, eyes never leaving Jared as he spoke. “They never let you see him again after that.”

Jared growled. “They gave him to me then took him away. He was mine. He is mine. I won't let them take him away again.”

“Jared...” began Misha, but he didn't continue until the taller man looked up and met his eyes. Jared couldn't help but notice the light behind the deep blue, the slight flush to pale skin. Misha smiled. “Would you like some help on that?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stakes keep rising and Jensen's stumbling while Jared soars.

Jensen paced. His sock covered feet silent against the thick rich champagne colored carpet, barely aware as his toes sunk into the deep pile. In fact, he was barely aware of the tension rippling through his shoulders down and his back, his hips shifting sharply with each step-step-step-pivot, repeat; arms pressed tight to his sides bent at the elbow so his hands could fidget near his belly. The pads of his thumbs caressed small pressure circles over his fingertips one at a time, left hand mirrored with his right, each movement a different thought, probabilities and possibilities entering and exiting, shoved into folders and files within his mind. So engrossed in it, fighting to hold onto it, he barely even registered the guard who stood sentry at the door. Not inside. No. Locked in a luxury cell with an open door, a taunt of freedom blocked by the large mass of man standing just outside, brown eyes following each and every move Jensen made. They wouldn't leave him alone anymore, not really a surprise, but then, neither were the workers who'd come earlier to board up the mouth to the air duct. Not as if he would try it again. Once was smart, twice was lucky. It was time to find other avenues.

Jensen had infinite patience when required. Carefully thought out plans required patience as much as anything else. Preparation, information, understanding, planning, all needed to be thought out from every conceivable avenue before executed. Each step on a journey plotted to guarantee arrival at the final destination. This was where Jensen excelled. It was this ability the Center wanted from him, to not only create and see and then execute near perfect plans, but also in identifying them in others, spotting patterns, educated expectations of actions/reactions based on previous or calculated behavior. He would sink into his mind and thoughts, let the calculations and theories wash over him, become whoever he needed to be, see it through the eyes of another and come out with answers; solutions. Now, his plans, his carefully thought out, cautiously executed, complicated patterns were being disrupted and corrupted by Jared. Jensen's mind was his field of battle. It was his haven, his computer and analytical ally. And somehow, Jared breached Jensen's battlefield.

Jensen could not think!

Though, in his own defense, he was exhausted, already mid-afternoon, and he'd been up since yesterday morning. Almost thirty hours of constant activity; his near escape and the night before, enduring Jared, the cage and fear for Jeff, attempted rape by four bastards and since Misha had left hours ago he'd been left with nothing but his thoughts. A shower had helped and Misha had tended his wounds, but with the time alone and the adrenaline fading, his anxiety while awaiting Jared soared. He needed to sleep; he knew how badly he needed to sleep. For years, Jeff had drummed into his head that sleep was a weapon, food was a weapon, both requirements to keep the body and mind strong, but he couldn't sleep. He couldn't even settle into a chair to relax his tired body. He needed to move, he needed to do something, because all he was really doing was waiting for Jared. In addition, Jensen needed to wrap his mind around what Jared had said, what he had done, before he returned.

Jared had lied. Jared had protected Jeff. Jared had lied to protect Jeff. None of this made sense to Jensen and somewhere in the back of his mind he saw visions of an old black and white TV with a tinfoil based Robbie the Robot running around with metal arms flailing, “Danger! Danger.” This was real danger. Far more dangerous than being locked and caged in the basement. Jensen just could not figure out why Jared would do it. Jared was as locked in the lie as he and Jeff were. If the old man ever found out punishment would be, without a doubt, swift and cruel. Therefore, what could he possibly gain? Jared wasn't foolish enough to think it would earn him brownie points or obedience; appreciation would get nothing and serve no purpose to a man who wanted him caged and owned. 

Twice Jensen had slithered through the silvery tubes, scrambling through dust and dirt and enduring scraped up knees and palms in his bid for freedom. Freedom. Such a large word. A word he'd never really understood until a year ago when he'd first crawled out of the fog of captivity, when he'd finally breathed in air not pumped in and looked deep at a sun that seemed brighter, warmer than he'd ever known before, walked streets that led to unknown places, destinations without purpose, simple pleasure, exploration, meeting people without agendas and training, people who could just be, could love or hate, work or starve, laugh or cry and all because it was what they chose out of life. He'd met couples who were together out of love, not assigned for genetic compatibility, parents who had children because they had shared that love, not to create a strong offspring. He'd seen men struggling to pay bills and going to work at jobs they hated because they had families who relied on them who they refused to let down. He saw women, exhausted and frumpy from life, branded and labelled and yet decisively determined that their next generation would have better, have more. He'd seen the oppressed and the oppressive, the kind and the cruel, rich and poor, dirty and clean, tainted and damned, optimistic and innocent. Humanity. It was not always beautiful, but it was exquisite. It was real and true. As harsh and cold as any day at the Center, but what lacked most while Jensen had grown up was the exact thing that made the world out there worth fighting for, worth enduring whatever torture and degradation they could inflict on him in this man made hell. There was hope. There was always hope. Hope that tomorrow would be better, hope of meeting that special someone, hope to find a playful moment with friends or family, hope for that perfect rib-eye steak with the works, hope for that simple moment beneath clean sheets locked in that drift between wake and asleep when everything inside one's head found a quiet Zen-like moment of peace. That hope made it worth it. No matter what the Center threw at Jensen, he knew he would never give up his fight to be in a place where he could hope again.

Jared, on the other hand, was another matter.

Hope became frightening, thoughts of tomorrows sent shivers through him. Jared stole away hope now as easily as he had when they were younger. Back when Jensen hoped for friendship, he'd learned excitement and upheaval, when he'd hoped for touch he'd learned embarrassment and wantonness, when he'd hoped for love he'd learned pain and betrayal. Even then, Jared had always pushed him hard, never relenting, pulling him out of his shell, making him act without thinking, making him crave something outside his own head. Jared had taught him how to take by having so much taken from him, he'd learned to want and need by giving Jared what he demanded. And Jared had been demanding. After that night, after Jensen had laid there and cried until he couldn't anymore, body numb from pain and the cold cement beneath him. Then, Jeff had finally found him, brought him upstairs, asked questions to which Jensen only responded in silence. He'd been cleaned up and put to bed and slept without sleeping and cried without tears, and woke to a day with no sun in the sky. Jensen had stopped believing in hope. Jared had taken that along with his virginity. It wasn't hope for freedom that began Jensen's obsession with escape. Escape was not about a new life, a real life, not in the beginning. It wasn't even about safety from the misery his life had always been. It had been about escape from Jared. Jensen never saw Jared after that night, not in the flesh, but he could see him everywhere, he could hear him and smell him and feel him every time he turned a corner or entered a dark room. In that split second from the time he'd flick the switch until the room washed bright, Jensen would know Jared was there waiting for him. What made Jensen's determination so intense, made his obsession to escape and get as far from the Centre as possible was when he realized that when the light flared and he found the room empty, when he saw no one waited for him, no one wanting him, that he was still alone, he was disappointed.

He'd wanted. He'd hoped.

As he paced the thick-carpeted room, hands fiddled at his belly, fingers absently pressing at the quivering mass of nerves beneath taunt muscles he could still feel that want. 

Back then, the child had allowed himself to believe Jared liked him, maybe even cared about him but as a man, he knew better. Jared was a human embodiment of everything the Center stood for, and what the Center could never do to Jensen, Jared could. What they could never take, Jared could, and places within Jensen they could never reach, Jared could. Standing against the other handlers and manipulators, even all of them as one, Jensen didn't feared losing himself. When he would choose death or even the death of his mentor over submitting then, really, what power did they have over him? Now, despite the stunt in the west garage and proving Jared unqualified for the task, Parker was putting him back in and Jensen's mind kept stuttering and stalling each time he thought of Jared being in the equation. It felt as burnt out as his body did. Rode hard and put away wet, running on empty, they all seemed to suit exactly how he felt. And his day was far from over.

He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs and expand his chest, holding until he felt his lungs burn, then released slowly. He was at war, a battle, a vicious cruel battle but not for land, religion, or politics. He was fighting for his soul. Each step inflicted on him broke little pieces of it away, Jared, the basement, the cages, the threats, the attempted rape...

He shuddered, stepping quickly across the room as if he could move away from that memory, fighting the desire to find some corner to crawl into so he could ball himself up and sob like the frightened powerless child he felt like. Instead, he rubbed both hands over his face, yawning deeply into his palms and trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. He didn't owe anything to Jared, there was no debt he had to repay, but he couldn't stop thinking of what could have happened earlier in his room, no matter how hard he focused his mind on facts or plans, he could not stop the 'what ifs', the possibilities of what those four men could have done to him from popping into his head. What if Jared had not shown up?

The soft click of the door locking jerked Jensen from his thoughts and he spun around to face his tall, dark, walking nightmare. The door no longer open, the guard no longer visible: leaving the two men alone. Jensen felt the cold chill of desperation tickle across his spine, but instead of surrendering to it, he planted his feet steady, pulling his shoulders back, jutted out his chin and glared at Jared. 

Jared's lips curled into a grin as he slowly sauntered further into the room. “Still scared of me, Jenny?”

Jensen matched his grin, coldly. “Repelled is more like it.”

Jared arched a brow. “You don't seem as pleased to see me as you did the last time I was here.”

“Save it. I am too tired, too sore, and too hungry for the games right now. If I'm being sent back to the basement just tell me. If it's something else, tell me. And if you can't be bothered to do that than just get out of my room and let me get some sleep.”

The low deep chuckling was the last thing Jensen expected from Jared. “You might want to watch that temper of yours, or it might get you into trouble.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “If you have nothing constructive to add to our delightful little conversation, then get the fuck out.”

Jared moved quickly, long legs eating up the floor, and grabbed Jensen's shoulders, not stopping until Jensen's back slammed into the wall. “Make me,” he hissed darkly.

Jensen's head bounced off the wall, breath driven from his lungs. When he could finally inhale, he blinked away the fleeting pain, making himself tilt his head up to keep eye contact. Darkened hazel pinned him to the wall as completely as the grips at his shoulders. He swallowed back a sudden shudder; there was no way he could physically make Jared leave, especially as exhausted and sore as he was. He couldn't make Jared do anything. The dark eyes slowly softened, gaze sliding down to his cheek, body so close and warm, that warmth seeping through to Jensen. It wasn't until the large palm brushed lightly against his bruised cheek that Jensen finally moved, flinching away from the touch. “Don't.”

Ignoring him, Jared cupped his jaw, thumb caressing over the growing bruise. Jensen turned his gaze aside, refusing to allow the gentleness to steal away the chilling reminder of what almost happened. Jared's words came out soft, a bare whisper. “Where else did they touch you?”

Jensen shook his head, clenching his jaw. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to talk about it. Jared leaned in, lips barely brushing against the cheek then whispered into his ear. “You're shivering.”

Jensen swallowed at the soft breath, the touches, the closeness; he could feel his pulse racing. This quiet Jared, whispering lies of concern from his beautiful lips was a weapon Jensen had never faced before. He could feel the caresses speaking directly to pained skin, flesh aching for more. He licked his dry lips to find his voice, silently cursing the unsteadiness in it. “I was almost gang-raped. I think I have the right.”

Jared's right hand continued to caress the bruised cheek, his left dropped to Jensen's hip. “They had no right to touch you.”

“Neither do you.”

“Of course I do.” His soft chuckle tickled Jensen's ear. “You're mine.”

The fingers at his hip slipped under the hem of his shirt, skin against skin, thumb traced slow circles, sending tantalizing sensations across his skin, and even though he knew it would make no difference, do no good, Jensen had to say something. “Jared...stop.”

“Tell me where they touched you.”

He felt drained, weak, tired to the depths of his soul. Months of fighting, of thinking, of trying, and what little strength he had left seeped out of him by the unexpected touches. He was so used to the violence, the possessive claiming that this newness left him momentarily lost, unbalanced. Jensen let his head drop to the wall and opened his eyes, finally looking up at Jared. “Why?”

Jared shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving that little bit closer, leaning his body in, yet still not touching his to Jensen. Instead, he slid his thumb down his cheek then along the slight stubble of his jaw before gliding up and across Jensen's bottom lip. Jensen winced when Jared touched where a punch had split it opened earlier. Jared lowered his head slowly; eyes locked to the full bottom lip and brushed his lips against the damage.

Jensen's breath hitched in his throat, head pressing back harder into the wall at the barely there touch and without even realizing he tilted up into it. His felt a deep twinge in his belly, a heat rolling, coiling through him, warming dark, chilled places inside, and it was only when he felt a moan rumbling through him that he caught himself. His eyes snapped open, not even sure, when they had closed. What the hell was he doing? His mind raced to categorize his emotions and actions, to identify Jared's role in his reactions. He came to only one conclusion. He was allowing himself to find comfort in Jared. This was insane. This was fucked up. Jared dipped down again, thumb slipping under Jensen's chin to lift his mouth for a deeper kiss and Jensen left his body pliant, fighting a shudder of want, not of disgust or fear, but of want. He had to stop this. This new Jared; this new Jared who offered touches and caresses that teenage-Jensen would have sold his soul for was more dangerous than any other Jared he had ever faced. Without thinking, without planning or plotting Jensen reacted, just reacted, and did the stupidest thing he had done in his life.

He swung hard and fast, pounding his fist into Jared's jaw.

Jared's head jolted hard, his body flying back, twisting with feet scrambling beneath to catch himself at the last minute. Jensen's eyes widened, as shocked by his actions as Jared was. He didn't move, didn't even blink. He could only watch and wait for the repercussions. Jared righted himself instantly, snapping his head to flip back his too long chestnut hair out of his face. Despite the amused smirk on his face, his eyes raged. He rolled his jaw, his words icily calm. “That was stupid.”

Jensen felt the pounding in his chest, muscles screaming at him to run. “Yeah. Probably.”

“You gonna apologize and blame it on your bad day?”

Jensen pondered that a few seconds, then shook his head. “No. And I think you can expect another if you come at me like that again.”

Jared's laughter told Jensen exactly how seriously the taller man did not take the threat. Jensen schooled his fear and pushed out one of his cockier grins. “Damn the consequences.”

“You want back into your cage in the basement so bad?” 

“It gets cozy once you get used to it.”

Jared rubbed his jaw and rolled out the lingering ache one last time, dark glare never leaving Jensen as Jensen waited for the fallout. He had no doubt Jared was thinking of a suitable reaction, a suitable punishment, but wasn't that what Jensen had been expecting anyway? They were already going to punish for the attempted escape. An interrogation was inevitable, so seriously, how much worse could the consequences be? That thought eased something within him, not dread exactly, because that didn't seem to be going anywhere, but his acceptance helped calm him. He waited, his heart slowing to a more normal beat, breathing a little easier.

Jared cocked his head. “I think...” he began slowly. “You really don't have a problem with being thrown back into the cage. In fact, I think you'd prefer it.”

Jensen remained stock still, keeping his face as neutral as possible. There was truth in Jared's words, but no way should Jared know that. 

“I think...” Jared continued, lips twitching into a grin. “You see it as a way of getting away from me.”

Jensen shoved down the surprise he felt at how very close Jared was to the truth and widened his grin. “Thinking isn't exactly your forte, Jay.” He watched the predictable thunderous flash of furry. Jared might know some of Jensen's buttons, but Jensen knew Jared's as well. “But it is adorable that you try.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed and for a moment Jensen expected violence, perhaps hoped for it, it was familiar, but then the fury faded and the damned grin curled those wide luscious lips. “That's not a denial.”

With a shrug, Jensen said, “All I have to do is wait for the right moment to make you look incompetent again. Personally, I think that'd be more fun.”

Jared laughed, shaking his head. “No, Jenny. Not gonna work. I saw the fear in your eyes when the old man gave you back to me. The only thing I ever felt stronger in you was last night when you gave yourself to me so completely.”

Jensen felt a sudden flush at the reminder, the heat, the hunger, the need that had raged through him as Jared had taken his body. He turned his head away, trying to hide the shame flaming his cheeks. He took a controlled breath.

“I have been up against bigger, better and badder. You just piss me off with your caveman bullshit. Doesn't get Parker what he wants though, does it?”

“Gets me what I want.”

“And I'm sure the old man will let you play in his sandbox indefinitely.” Jensen snipped lightly.

“Long enough.” Jared stepped forward, pressing Jensen back against the wall, a position becoming too damn familiar with the tall son of a bitch, and rolled his hips. As the two bodies ground together, more of a reminder of the weapons Jared carried, Jensen's mouth parted on a gasp hands reaching to grab Jared's biceps. “Stop.”

The smile spread slowly across Jared's face, split wide and bright, drawing out dimples and white teeth. “You owe me.”

Jensen scowled at him. This was not a conversation he wanted to have in a room surely bugged for everyone and anyone else to hear. In fact, it was a conversation he never wanted to have. Jared made his choice to lie, making him as doomed as the rest of them should the lie ever come out. He hissed quiet angry words through clenched teeth. “I owe you nothing.” A thought came to Jensen in a flash and his lips curled to match his tormentor's grin. “In fact, maybe it's you who owes me. So maybe you should think about treating me a little nicer.”

“You threatening me, Jenny?”

His cold green eyes locked tight to hazel. “Beware of the man who has nothing to lose,” he quoted softly.

Jared's eyes narrowed slowly and Jensen could almost see the thought process, but instead of speaking Jared grabbed a fistful of cloth at Jensen's chest and yanked him from the wall. Without stopping, he dragged the smaller man across the room to the door and pounded on it twice. “I think it's about time you find out just how much you have to lose.”

The door swung open by the outside guard and Jared was pulling him again. Jensen had enough of that and dug in his heels. “Where the hell are you talking me?”

Spinning Jensen hard he shoved him into the wall and pressed in, boxing the smaller body between two immovable forces. “Scared, bitch?”

Jensen never even had time to respond before Jared's large paw had wrapped around his bicep propelling Jensen forward. No match to Jensen's strength and size, Jensen could do nothing as he was manhandled along hallways and down several flights of stairs. They passed people, saw faces filled with shock, surprise, even fear and pity and Jensen released a frustrated sigh. He could only image how this appeared and the most he could do was keep his feet scampering underneath and hope he didn't fall; not an easy task with the exhaustion of mind and body struggling for dominance over aches and pains. If not for the concern flooding him that was quickly turning to panic, he knew he would have crumbled long before that point. Only when they were on the fifth floor did Jared pull him out of the stairwell and down the hall to the farthest wing. 

As they neared the end, Jared recognized where they were. It was their spot, a small little section between a ventilation shaft and an electronic panel; an out-of-the-way section where repairs could be made without bothering the worker bees, hidden in a half-hallway that ended abruptly. A secret corner where long ago Jensen and Jared had shared secret meetings and private conversation, where Jensen had taught Jared chess and Jared taught Jensen poker. Then, as they grew older, it was in that corner when Jared first leaned over in the middle of shifting his rook across the board and kissed Jensen. With board games forgotten, it became a refuge of stolen moments for hands and mouths to explore, moments when life had meant something different. 

Jared spun Jensen one last time and shoved him into the little cavern of three bare walls, a corner blocked from witnesses, cameras, and interruptions. Jensen stabled his feet beneath him and turned to face Jared, ready to bark at him, but Jared was faster.

“You really want to play this fucking game with me, Jensen? Because know if you do, then the one who will surely lose is Jeff.”

Jensen stared hard into his face, looking for any tell to reveal where he was going with this, wanting to know exactly what Jared really knew. With nothing admitted, nothing confirmed, Jared could just be bluffing. Jensen doubted it, but, in truth, he also needed a minute to think. “You think you know something? Enlighten me. What do you think you have over me that threatens Jeff?”

“You crawled out that window at exactly one minute past midnight. A full five minutes before Jeff pulled out of the parking lot. Think that's enough to condemn Jeff in the old man's eyes?”

The cold shiver drove through Jensen. Even though he'd expected it, even though he'd known what Jared was going to say he still didn't feel prepared to deal with it. “So? You lied. We both know if you go to the Parker that you'll pay as much as anyone else.”

“What are they gonna do that they haven't done before?” He demanded, tossing his dark hair off his face. He took a step forward and Jensen instinctively stepped back. Jared smirked at Jensen's retreat. “But if you really feel you have the tactical advantage here, Jenny, go tell him. Go tell Parker how I lied to him, and they'll take me downstairs and probably torture me for a month or two, then a few more months of retraining, re-indoctrination. Wouldn't be the first time.” He laughed sharply, so cold it shuddered through his prey. “I'll probably lose some privileges. Hell,” he added in the most condescending tone, “they might even take away my X-Box.” 

He took another step forward, which Jensen matched backwards, the dread growing with each step and each word from Jared. Jared knew well what would happen, and none of it frightened him; consequences he was willing to take to gain the advantage. Perhaps Jensen wasn't the one who had nothing to lose. 

Jared pink tongue flicked out and slid across his bottom lip, the corners of the lips twitching as if holding in a grin, which only sent Jensen another step back. Jared copied his step that time, keeping their physical distance the same few feet, and continued. “But Jeff, Jeff won't be taken downstairs. He won't be retrained. They will kill him, and they'll do it right in front of you. They won't do it, Jensen, to force you to do a job or gain your obedience. They will do it to teach you a lesson. And to remind anyone else who might be helping you they will be found, and they will be dealt with...” The grin he had been suppressing spread wide and cruel. “...with extreme prejudice.”

“Jesus Christ, Jared. We are talking about Jeff. You've known him most of your life.”

Jared nodded slowly, eyes never moving from Jensen, locked and focused, and in that gaze he held Jensen's heart, squeezing and threatening the one part of Jensen's life that had always been good, always meant safe and loved. He forced himself to breathe, to swallow over the golf ball lump in his throat, to force his mind to work around the fear. Jared took another step forward and as Jensen went to move back, but found couldn't, he'd reached the depth of the little corner. 

“I like Jeff. I do. It's part of the reason I lied, but only part. A small part.” Jensen nodded numbly as Jared spoke, he knew what was coming, and he didn't need to hear it – didn't want to hear it – but when had that ever stopped Jared. “That means, Jenny, that you owe me. You will pay up or I swear to you, I'll walk upstairs myself and tell the old man that I gambled, took a shot at gaining your trust for the greater good and lost, tried something that didn't pan out, point out my obvious obedience to the Center by coming clean and my willingness to accept the consequences. Then Jeff will die.”

Jensen slumped against the wall, his eyes closing. The horrible words burned his throat as he spoke them, knowing he was condemning the only father he remembered. “I can't. Jared, please! Jeff would never forgive me.”

Jared caught Jensen's chin between thumb and forefinger and brought his face up. Jensen wanted nothing but to hide in the darkness within his own mind, not see Jared's victory as he betrayed Jeff.

“What is it you can't do?” Jared asked, but instead of the cold glint of victory in his voice, the soft cadence whispered across his cheek. Jensen would never admit it, not even to himself how there was something in that low quiet sound that reached into him. He blinked away the frightened fog and met Jared's eyes. They were gentler than he expected but there was no doubt the man already knew the anguish he'd inflicted. 

“I can't save Jeff if it means going back to work for the Center. I can't.”

Jared's his lips brushed over the bruised cheek. “That's not the price you'll pay to keep him alive.”

“What? What do you want?”

Jared's smirk spread across his handsome, cruel face. 

Jensen swallowed hard, heart triple pattering in his chest, trying to prepare himself and asked warily, “What do you want from me?”

“A kiss?”

Jensen's brows furrowed, unsure if he'd heard right. A kiss? Jared would accept such a small trinket of submission that would be over in seconds, or perhaps minutes when he held such a powerful incentive? Jensen wasn't buying it. “That's it?”

“That's it.”

Jensen studied him hard, trying to think this through, but it was making no sense. In fact, it lacked the logic of any common sense. Jared had a job to do. Jared had a goal, and a kiss would do nothing to further his goal or Parker's. His eyes narrowed. “You think I'll trust you because of this? What's your game, Jared? What's the catch?”

Jared placed his large paws flat against the wall on either side of Jensen's head. “You won't trust me no matter what I do. I accepted that a long time ago, and I can live with that. Hell, I even like it. So, do we have a deal?”

Jensen's tongue licked across his dry bottom lip, teeth gently grazing over the closed split from earlier, tasting the residual tint of copper. He couldn't see the downside and knew he wouldn't until Jared dropped the other shoe. He had no choice but to play along. He shrugged. “Fine. Get it over with.”

Jared laughed lightly, and the joy in it left no doubt in Jensen's mind that Jared was about to up the stakes of whatever game he was playing. “Oh no, Jenny, you misunderstand. I'm not going to kiss you. You're going to kiss me. And not just any kiss, I want the real thing, the real you. No holding back. Like you used to, like when we were teens.”

The word jumped out before Jensen even thought about it. “No!”

Jared arched a brow, actually surprised. “No?”

“Not going to happen.” Jensen ducked down under Jared's palm to slide along the wall and twist away. Jared shifted with him, a strong arm blocking his escape and asked, “It's not worth Jeff's life?”

Jared was asking Jensen to go back to what was. It was like asking Jensen to ignore or forget everything that has happened since. Worse. It was like asking Jensen to remember. Remember stolen kisses in secret corners, burgeoning passion as Jared taught him the pleasures of touch and taste, hours of exploration and sensation, of hungry panting and surreptitious needs, Jared's hands, even then already so huge and calloused, his soft demanding lips, the heat and weight of his body over Jensen's smaller one. He couldn't do that. He'd spend almost a decade making himself not remember. Jensen needed to move, to get out, feeling claustrophobic, as if Jared was stealing the very air Jensen needed to breathe. He jerked his body back, twisting, hands suddenly shoving at Jared's chest. “Let me out.”

Jared took a step back, but stayed in front of Jensen. Jensen moved to the right only to have Jared match him. Frustration drove him to step then to the left. Again, Jared followed. He allowed him the foot of distance between their two bodies but offered no freedom. Jensen moved again, then again, trying to shift away, to escape the isolated cavern, to escape Jared, until finally Jensen gave up and dropped back, slamming his palms against the wall.

“What the fuck is with you and walls?” he demanded and there was no way Jared missed the barely muffled panic in his voice. Just thinking of giving Jared that affection – that passion – had tentacles slithering up his belly and around his spine until he could almost choke on it.

Jared chuckled darkly. “I like you against the wall. I like watching your eyes when you feel vulnerable, powerless.” Jared stole back that foot of space he'd given Jensen and Jensen could do nothing to stop his eyes from giving Jared exactly what he wanted. Jared purred. “Yeah. Like that. When you know you're trapped, when you know you're mine. When you want to fight me, but know that you can't.”

Jensen let his head drop back to the wall and his eyes close. He allowed himself to feel Jared's weight, strength, and height. He allowed himself to feel the immovable wall. He allowed himself to sink into the trap that Jared had set. He allowed himself to feel the isolation and captivity. He allowed himself to feel the hammering of his heart, the pounding of blood through his ears, the panting of breath through his parted lips. He allowed himself to shiver from the cold ball of panic coiling in his belly. He allowed it all in. He allowed it. And then he didn't. 

Jensen opened his eyes and found Jared watching him. 

“If I agreed to this,” asked Jensen quietly, “Then you keep Jeff safe.”

Jared nodded slightly, hazel eyes never leaving green as Jensen capitulated. 

“And I don't have to agree to anything more? One kiss?”

“That's it.” Jared smiled. “I'll get everything else I want.”

“I think you already did,” admitted Jensen softly. 

He didn't wait for a response, in fact, moved before Jared could speak and grabbed the collar of his shirt to pulled the taller man in, shoving his lips hard against Jared's. A startled sound burst from Jared, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Jensen's waist, leaning in to steal control of the kiss as soon as lips parted for a quick breath. Jensen's tongue fought for control though he knew he would surrender, he always had, and gave Jared everything he expected. He let himself go, forced himself to stop thinking, to just feel. It was familiar and new at the same time. Jared, though bigger and stronger still slotted so easily against him, bodies rubbing up against each other, knees to chest. His lips more experienced than they used to be, softness under hard intent, taste minty and caffeinated, with a touch of something sweet. Absently, he wondered if Jared still had a soft spot for candy. The hands, more sure of themselves slid up his back, large and encompassing, pulled Jensen harder against him until they shared the very same space. He felt fingertips at the base of his neck, soft and teasing, sending shivers of electricity through him, tightening the coil in his belly. There was heat to the kiss; hunger and passion, and despite it being the last thing in the world Jensen wanted, he allowed himself to sink into it, letting himself enjoy as strong hands rubbed back down his back. His own hands released the cloth and slipped around Jared's shoulders, sliding up his neck and clenching two handfuls of the silken tresses, pulling Jared into him. Jared moaned, a deep rumble, shooting shivers of pleasure through his conquest – sensations Jensen should long be over – driving that ache higher and his body to arch, grinding forward to feed that ache, tilting Jared's head into a better angle to thrust deeper inside, to feel their tongues fight and scrap for dominance; his own moan seeping out of him all wet and dirty and wanton. Jared's hands clutched his hips, pulling in to grind their groins together, Jared hardening cock thrusting against Jensen's own erection. It was enough to snap Jensen mind back into play. He shoved Jared back hard.

“Give you an inch you think you're a ruler.” Jensen wiped Jared's wetness, the lingering taste, from his lips. Jared laughed and dropped against the wall beside him. “Always was the ruler, baby. Thought you'd have figured that out by now.”

“You just better keep him safe,” he snapped, making himself look away as Jared fingertips played lightly at his own kiss swollen lips. 

“Never did find anyone who could kiss like you,” muttered Jared softly Jensen wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear it.

Ignoring the strange twinge in his belly, he rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. “Are we done? Because if we're done, I'd like to get some sleep.”

“Jensen...” Jared said dispassionately, the tone off, sobering. Jensen stopped and turned, eyeing the difference in Jared's stiffness. “We're not done.”

It wasn't like he'd forgotten, wasn't like his problems with Parker had suddenly evaporated, but the dark professional in front of him was unexpected; the dangerous and feared agent who answered only to Mr. Parker. Jensen licked his lips nervously. “So what's it going to be? Back to my cage? Another month or two in the dark?”

Jared said nothing, no glib jokes, no smirks, not even that familiar twinkle in his eyes, just bunched up brows in deep thought, a seriousness Jensen had never seen before. It did not bode well and that creepy crawling dread only intensified. 

Jensen had to ask. He had to know. “Where?”

“Twenty.”

Jensen blinked. Oh, shit. Sub-basement twenty only had one purpose. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “Torture? You're going to torture me, Jared?”

“Not leaving me much of a choice. The boss is losing patience. I have a limited period to work with and if I don't get results then you're out of my hands and they're bringing in people you do not want to meet. People a lot nastier than me. So you know what that means.”

“Yeah.” hissed Jensen. “Means when you fail again I have something to look forward to.”

Jared shot him a warning glower. “You can always talk now.”

“About what? Jesus Christ! You already know about Jeff.”

An unimpressed smirk crossed Jared's lips. “Yeah, and we both know it wasn't Jeff who turned off the sensors.”

Jensen glared at him, seething. He'd expected a lot, hell, he'd even expected some forms of torture, but deep down he'd never thought it would come from Jared. He shook his head, disappointment and disgust shown plainly on his face. “I can't believe I ever thought I knew you.”

The predator pushed off the wall and stalked forward, all smirk and confidence. “Aw, don't be like that, Jenny. I've been torturing you for years. I'm sure you'll survive with most of your marbles.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen's losing the only thing he's ever had to call his own...his mind.

Fuck you, Jared. That's all Jensen wanted to say. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Fuck you and the rock you crawled out from under. Just fuck you! And since that was the extent of what his mind could come up with, Jensen knew he was in trouble. 

Time had lost all meaning since he'd been brought to Level Twenty; unable to draw on his eidetic memory, but Jensen's pretty sure it had been at least a week, maybe two. No, that couldn't be right; he'd only eaten four times. Four times? Four times. He was sure of that. Pretty sure. Or maybe not. Could have been five. 

Maybe remembering positions was better. They might have been changed daily. First was on his knees with his wrists bound behind him, fettered to a chain dangling from the ceiling so he had to constantly lean forward. The chains held him too high to sit back on his heels and the cuffs holding his ankles kept him from lifting up. Left there until his knees swelled up, his shoulders had long gone throbbing and numb, and his wrists chafed to near bleeding; hard to bleed from leather cuffs. That had only been the beginning. 

With only a few hours crashing in the corner on the cold cement floor, nowhere near enough time to rest his aching body, they roused him again, manhandling him belly down on a slanted table with his head nearer the ground. All the blood that had settled into his lower region from kneeling rushed in waves to the other end of his body, pressure building into shoulders and lungs, pounding into his head until he'd thought it would explode. Would have been easy to fall asleep if he didn't have to hold his head up out of the large pan of water to keep from drowning, and with his hands again cuffed behind his back it was no easy task. At least his knees got a rest. Then, what? The chair? No, the wall was next. Four cuffs stretched out with his back to the wall. Almost fell asleep. Would have, too, if the person in the room hadn't kept poking him every time he tried. Wasn't Jared, though. Didn't smell like him. Didn't feel like him. Hard to tell with the blindfold on. Harder with his ears plugged up. Maybe if the gag wasn't so big he would scream out his objections. Probably not, though, since it wasn't Jared. Bet Jared got to sleep. 

Then there was the chair. Been on it forever. Hours and hours and hours. Something was wrong with it. If he wasn't so tired from being awake for week, or just a few days – depending on if he went with what it felt like or the feedings – he might have figured it out sooner. The legs weren't even. With useless hands bound to straps of leather around his thighs, and unable to rely on anything but his own tenuous balance, he had to keep a constant vigil, not losing focus for even a split second, and keep perfectly still or crash to the floor. Not a pleasant experience with how badly his body ached. Wouldn't be so bad if they'd just leave him on the floor each time it happened, but, inevitably, hands would pick him back up and shove him back into place. Weren't Jared's hands. Didn't feel right. 

Torture-lite, he remembered reading about it before his escape, and again after. Sleep deprivation, control of food, water, bodily functions, stress inducing positions while isolating sound and sight to leave the victim weak, disoriented and desperate, and in a constant state of fear. Non-invasive torture; that caused neither long-term physical or psychological damage. Ha! His body would love to argue that conclusion. Knowing about it, what they would do, why they were doing it, the desired effects, helped and didn't help at the same time. Logically, he knew he would eventually succumb, everyone did to one extreme or another. At the same time, knowing the 'what and why' offered an understanding the prisoners of Abu Ghraib couldn't possibly fathom. Just one night without sleep can temporarily drain up to ten points from a person’s IQ, consistent sleep deprivation caused anything from disorientation to delusions. The control of food, water, and release of bodily wastes induced dependency on one's captors for the most basic of human necessities. The stress positions weakened the body and drained whatever energy the mind might use to hold onto a more pleasant delusion, going to one's so called 'happy place' – standard anti-torture training – and kept the victim in the moment, unable to mentally escape what the body endured. Then, periodically – could have been once a day or three times a day for all Jensen knew – Jared would return, offer him a temporary end to the pain, offer him a chance to eat, offer him a quiet place to lie down. But with the offer came a price. Small prices. Little concessions. Jeff had taught him many years ago that to win a war, sometimes strategical sacrifices had to be made. So, by the second visit, Jensen always remembered to say please and thank you. By the forth he'd explained, in detail, how he'd managed to escape a year ago, by the fifth, he'd given a detailed list of every state, city and town he had visited since leaving and his purpose in each. When asked the names of those he’d had significant interaction with, Jensen balked. The first time. 

But not the second.

There were breaking him down, his body, his mind, his will, and only when he was sufficiently broken would the relevant questioning part of the interrogation begin. The real questions. Jensen knew all of this. Just didn't know what good knowing it help the situation. They were going after his mind rather than torturing his body. Jared was going after his mind. How terrifying was that! 

Maybe weeks had passed; maybe these were the other people Jared had warned him about, those supposedly nastier than himself. If so, they weren't all that special. They were just doing all the same things. Better, though, if it's not Jared. Better. He shook his head, chasing that thought away. Not going to think Jared-thoughts. No more Jared-thoughts. Fucking Jared. Fuck you, Jared!

Cursing doesn't sound very impressive from behind a gag. 

What was he thinking about again? Oh yeah. Fuck you, Jared. Stupid Jared. Made him kiss him, touched him soft and gentle, made Jensen give in and then brought him down here. Kiss and touch and think about other things. Fucking Jared. Stop. Wait. Need to stop those thoughts. If his mind would just start working again he'd remember why. If he could just hold onto a thought. That's it! Thoughts. Jared-thoughts were bad. Fucking Jared-thoughts were the worst. He couldn't let himself think about Jared. Jared wasn't there. Jared was gone. He nodded his head decisively, remembering, reminding himself, he had to remember, it was important to remember that. 

The sudden movement threw his whole body balance off and the chair shifted, a moment flying back, no time to enjoy that second or two of no pain before crashing hard to the floor, jamming the back of the chair into over-cramped muscles and bruised flesh. He cried out loud through the gag, a sob fighting its way through as pain washed in waves, cramping and twisting and strangling everything inside him, killing him, he could feel it, killing his body slowly, inch by inch. Why couldn't they use a bullet like normal psychotic kidnappers? The tears flowed, soaking into the black felt covering his eyes until they seeped out and around, wetting his already stained face. He let his head drop back with a clunk, releasing all strain on limbs that had been forced to alertness for God only knew how long and tried to relax. Just for a moment. Just a moment to catch his breath. Please, God, just one moment. He let his body lay limp, chest heaving as he surrendered to the pain, with tears welling in his covered eyes. But it felt so good to just lie there.

No sooner had his body started to calm, to relax when the hands were on him, many, maybe six, three people then. Before he could even scream behind the gag, they were lifting him up, righting the chair, touching the skin that had scraped the floor, the back of his head, limbs that had crushed between body and hard cement, checking to make sure he wasn't too damaged, he guessed. Couldn't have him dying before his time. He shook his head, wobbly on his shoulder, barely able to hold it up, crying out his muffled pleas, begging for time, for mercy, for a glass of water. Not a sound came to him through the earplugs, not a kind word or cruel rebuke, nothing but hands holding and balancing until he had regained his position, and then nothing. Nothing but him and sore toes and a screaming back and sore ass from sitting for what felt like days in the same hard wooden chair, and burning, scratchy skin, sweaty and rank – because of course the only sense they left him was smell – aching jaw lodged open for what might very well have been a week with only four very short breaks – or maybe five - and his head pounding from exhaustion and abuse and he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't care. Not anymore. He couldn't do it. They were killing him anyway; why not just hurry it along. He shoved his feet hard against the floor and purposely sent himself flying back, bracing his body for impact, the first he controlled.

His body stopped suddenly in the air. The chair, caught at a forty-five degree angle, held him. Stopped him. Saved him. They had no right to save him and he screamed behind the rubber ball filling his mouth, screamed and cursed and shrieked out every agony in his body. He twisted and jerked against the bindings, head snapping back and forth. He was losing it, he knew it, could feel it. They had taken the only thing he'd ever had of his very own, he was losing his fucking mind, and he wanted to crash! It was his to have, his pain and they couldn't take that away from him, too. He thrashed and bellowed until he couldn't anymore, until there was nothing left in him, no strength even for one more miserable breath and he didn't even care. It didn't matter anymore because he was losing his mind. 

The chair shifted and straightened him. He wanted to scream out, telling them no, he couldn't do it, he was already dead so he couldn't hold himself. They couldn't make a dead body hold itself up, but there was pressure at his back, warm and soft, solid, holding the weight of the chair, holding his weight. He could lean into it. He could rest against it. Oh God, it felt so good. Warm and soft like a cloud, yet solid, and he knew it was safe. It was safe and would hold him, he could lean his head back, and maybe they would let him sleep. He begged in his broken mind to be allowed to sleep, and maybe if he could sleep then when he woke up he wouldn't be dead.

A hand touched his cheek, soft and possessive, a large calloused paw, and he wanted to smile. He knew those callouses, born of gun grips and knife hilts, embedded from barbells and weight machines. He remembered, remembered when it was attached to a scrawnier arm, remembered uncertain touches, exploring caresses. He remembered when they meant fun, excitement, and daring. When they meant safe. He curled into the callouses, the palm and the warm, soft, solid pillow bed that held him up and kept him from crashing once more to the floor and let himself sink into the slumber.

The chair jerked and he squealed around the gag, tilting forward, his entire center of gravity jolting and he felt himself falling. Tight leather bindings cut into his body and held him dangling in the chair, his head bobbing like one of those silly bobble-head dolls with nothing but springs for a neck. Jensen doesn't know if he'd slept, and if he did for how long, but that mercy had ended. Hands held the chair still, held him still, as the large calloused paws released the bindings that attached body to wood. Jensen's strength, long faded, did nothing as he slipped from the chair; barely aware of other hands lowering him slowly to the floor and for some reason the cold, hard cement was the most comfortable thing in the world to curl up on.

Hands on his wrists cuffs, touching, checking, but not releasing. Hands on his body, smoothing over his naked, dirty skin, then turning him over, lifting him, forcing him to his feet. Jensen couldn't even be bothered to try to hold his weight. Why, when there was a perfectly comfortable floor to sleep on. Hands grabbed him, stopped him. He hated hands. Stupid hands. If everyone stopped having hands maybe he could sleep.

A sharp sting slapped across his cheek, snapping his bobble-head to the side, and he grunted, fighting the stars dancing behind his lids and had to shake his head to clear those last two living brain cells before they, too, were killed off by the people who shouldn't have hands. He got the message – they wanted him to stand.

Stumbling on his own feet the hands directed him back until he was sitting in the chair. He cried out his panic, grabbing at the seat of the chair with weak, stiff, still cuffed hands, but he clenched for all he was worth, forcing himself still, balancing his weight on his free legs. Now that he was up and moving even a little bit he didn't want to crash again. It took a minute, or maybe an hour, before he realized he was on a different chair. Four even legs and a cushion for his sore butt. Okay, so maybe the people with hands weren't all evil if they gave him a cushion.

A hand touched his face again. That hand. He leaned into it, not even thinking, but then his two brain cells were busy trying to remember how to let go of the chair. He wanted to thank the hands for the cushion and the chair with four even legs and not letting him crash again, and for touches that didn't hurt, but he couldn't, not with words. He mewled instead.

The soft, solid pillow bed was back and the hand was pulling him into it, rubbing at his back, so warm, and he realized how cold he was, shivering cold, though he couldn't remember why, but maybe that was why all of his bones hurt. He thought it might be important to remember why he was so cold, but then the hands were reaching behind to undo the buckle of his gag. Excitement soared through him and he dropped his head forward. He remembered this. This was a good thing.

As the ball gag slid out of his mouth, he groaned at the first effort to move his jaw, tongue swollen, saliva drooling out of him in thick, sticky stretchy strings that snapped back to his chin, splattering across his chest, but he barely noticed because the hands were on him again. Strong, gentle finger at the joints of his jaw, massaging in small circles to encourage movement, to slowly open and close his mouth and stretch out his unused joints. It ached and it felt wonderful.

He struggled to speak, throat wrecked, really not happy to be called into use after so long ignored. “Waer, peese.”

Damn. They broke his tongue. Can't talk without a tongue and they won't understand, and if they don't understand then they won't give him what he'd asked for. He dropped his head back to the warm solid pillow, rubbing his cheek into its protection, letting himself cry. If he can't tell them then they'll never know.

The hand came back, palming the side of his face, wiping at his tears, lifting his head up, stealing his solid, warm pillow again. He whined loudly, but then cold touched his bottom lip. His tongue flickered against it instinctively. Oh good, not broken, then. He licked again, cool and hard and, oh God, wet! Water! God yes, thank you water! He swallowed, glorious coolness dribbling down his throat, tempering the burn of dryness. More, drops poured in, just drops and he tilted over, mouth chasing after it. He jerked on his wrists, wanting to reach out, to wrap his hands around the glass, gulp and swallow and drown in the water. The glass pulled away after another half mouthful. He chased forward, blindly and finding nothing but air.

“More.” he whimpered in despair, his voice so wrecked, scratched raw and burning. “Please. More. Please.”

The glass returned, sharing more of that glorious elixir, and Jensen moaned as he swallowed, slow mouthful after slow mouthful until the cup tilted its last drops into his greedy mouth. He was gasping by the time the glass pulled away, exhausted just from the effort of drinking and sunk back into his soft, solid pillow. Before he could rest, the hands were back, only this time, unlike every single other time, the earplugs were being removed. Jensen stilled, unsure, a frightened tremor shooting through his already shivering body.

Sounds whooshed into his ears, pounding into his head, his whole body jolting at the sudden onslaught to an unused sense and he cried out, burrowing into his soft, solid pillow as if it could save him from sound, from chair legs scraping against the floor, cloth ruffling in movement, the hum of lights above his head, even the sound of breathing was too loud, too much, deafening. The hands pulled him in tighter, holding him, one rubbing up and down his back soothingly as the other cupped the back of his head, thumb caressing absently, to hold him to the only stability he has felt in so long.

“Easy, baby.” the soft, familiar murmurs bellowed in his ears. Jensen whimpered, “Please...”

“Please, what, Jen? Tell me what you need.”

What he needed... Jensen tried to think, really tried. Tried to rationalize and prioritize, but everything was a jumble in his broken mind. Food for his hollow belly, sleep for his exhausted body, treatment for his injuries, bath for his filth, comfort for his fear, he didn't know. He couldn't decide. He just didn't know and he was pushing the lonely two brain cells too hard and they were hurting his head even more and he couldn't think because they broke his mind. Then he was crying because he was dead, he had to be dead, without his mind he had nothing to fight with, no weapons, nothing to protect himself with, and they were going to win and make him kill and he was dead because his brain was dead so it shouldn't matter, but it did matter, he didn't want to be dead and he didn't want to kill.

Hands released the cuffs at his wrists and before Jensen even knew what was happening he was being pulled into his soft, solid pillow, pulled into Jared, into his chest, his long strong arms wrapping him tight into a cocoon of safety with his lips pressing soft kisses to the side of his temple and whispering directly to the remaining brain cells. “Easy, Jensen. Easy. You're okay. I'm here. I've got you.”

Jensen's two remaining brain cells believed him.

They let him sleep for three hours. It was a deep sleep, and despite having no blanket or pillow, his naked body curled into a ball on the floor in the corner of a little cell with a guard sitting a half dozen feet away playing solitaire on the little table on the other side of the bars, it was a good sleep. The sleep of the dead he would sarcastically joke much, much later on.

Jensen woke with a shriek, drowning under the cold water pouring out of the bucket over him, soaking his head and chest. Instinct that coiled his body into a tighter ball also demanded a breath and he sucked in a mouthful, choking him. He flipped over, coughing and rasping out the rare liquid he'd been granted in what felt like days.

“Son of a bitch!” he growled out as soon as he could.

“Time to rise and shine, princess.”

Before he had a chance to object or even orient himself, Jared grabbed him and yanked him up. A guard Jensen hadn't even noticed shoved a chair into the middle of the cell that Jared shoved his victim into. Jensen dropped back so fast the chair would have toppled if not for the quick guard grasping the back of it. The rude awakening told him one thing. His respite was over, his hell was about to begin again. Were they going to strap him to the uneven chair again? Were they going to steal his sight, sound, and speech again? Was it to be a different stress position that would cause such agony he would scream into his gag for relief? Jensen swallowed hard, shifting under the gaze of the two rested, dressed, and well-fed men.

He licked his chapped lips, lapping up wetness from his impromptu shower. Though, it helped his dryness, it did nothing to get rid of the bitter, gummy taste in his mouth. He didn't look up. Wouldn't. Couldn't. Jared crouched down in front of him, placing a hand on either side of his thighs, giving him no choice in the matter as he leaned into his personal bubble.

“You ready to talk to me?”

Jensen rolled his head back and turned to face the wall, gasping as he fought a sudden onslaught of tears. Already he wanted to cry, already he wanted to give in and make this whole thing stop because he knew, better than he'd ever known anything, that if he didn't the isolation and pain would start again, locked in his own mind with nothing but suffering as a companion. He chewed on his bottom lip to keep himself from speaking. The stinging slap hit his face, wet hair whipping into his eyes, jolting his attention back towards his interrogator.

“I asked you a question.”

Jensen's eyes, empty and desolate, blinked rapidly, whether it was tears or just water he chased away, he didn't know. “Can I...” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. What came out wasn't much better. “Can I have some water?”

Jared stood, and with a glance over his shoulder, the guard was moving away. Jensen took the moment he had and leaned in towards the looming man in front of him. “Please, Jay.” he whispered softly.

“Don't.” Jared snapped. “Don't even try. This is all on your, Jen. This is nothing more than expected consequences for your own choices.”

Jensen head dipped down, chin pressing into his collarbone and he fought back another urge to release the sob aching to get out. Jared was right. He'd always known what would happen if he was ever caught, even before he took that first step outside. There was no one to blame but himself. He couldn't even blame Jared. It wasn't Jared who ran away from everything he knew. Wasn't Jared who turned against everything he'd ever been taught and those who spent millions training him. Wasn't Jared who thought he deserved better. Hell, he couldn't even really blame Mr. Parker. Parker had never made his expectations secret, nor did he ever hide how he felt for those he considered traitor. The man was a linear thinker; everything beneficial for the Center was good, everything else was bad, and therefore must be dealt with as efficiently and ruthlessly as possible. He wanted to blame Jeff. Jeff who had taught him, not only to think, but to observe and comprehend, to look past actions to motives, to see past the obvious; Jeff, who had told him all those stories about honorable marines who sacrificed life and limb to stand against tyranny, to be strong and faithful to those who had no voice. But he couldn't blame Jeff any more than he could blame Jared or Parker for being who they are, what they are. He could only blame himself. His own failures brought him to this point. If he hadn't let himself believe he deserved better, could do better with his abilities, that he could be honorable and stand up for what was right, then he would never have run. If he hadn't been so overconfident then he would never have been caught. If he hadn't continually allowed Jared to get inside his head then he would have been able to run again. If he had been stronger, or smarter, or...

“Do you want this to stop?”

Jensen lifted his head, eyes jumping up at Jared, his heart quickening at just the thought of an end to this torment. He didn't answer; he didn't think he needed to.

“Then tell me,” Jared asked, tone softening, “Tell me who turned off the sensors. Who's trying to help you escape?”

Silence filled the small room as Jared awaited the answer. Jensen could barely breathe. It was as if he was balancing on the edge of a razor, feet pressing into the blade, knowing that with the slightest misstep he could slice in half or go tumbling down either side. There was no safe way to go, no right words to speak, no clear path to take. No matter what he answered, there would be consequences. And while he balanced Jared offered a ledge to jump onto, a ledge as precarious and dangerous as the razor's edge. He swallowed hard through his dry throat, reminded again of how weak he was, fighting to find a consistent thought other than water/food/sleep, struggling through the scrambled fog in his head to string strands of logic together. His mind was in chaos, as beaten down as his body and spirit. The worst part was that he wanted to. He wanted to open his mouth and make it stop. He wanted to scream out the answer to the sensors and anything else Jared might ask, because just the thought of going through another day of torment, or another hour, or hell, even another minute, terrified him. This was what Jared wanted. It was what Parker wanted. They wanted him terrified so he was terrified. They wanted him hurting so he hurt. If they wanted him working then they would do anything they damn well pleased to get him working. No matter how strong he once thought he was or how righteous he felt when standing up to them, he would break. Eventually, someday, some way, he would answer all their questions and obey all their commands.

A shift of noise drew Jensen's attention as the guard returned and handed a plastic bottle of spring water to Jared. Jared took it, his eyes meeting Jensen's and held on, taking the torment another notch higher. He broke the seal, unscrewed to the cap, then tilted the bottle to his own mouth and drank. Jensen's entire body clenched up in need, his stomach empty, and barely even registered the small desperate little whimper he made as he watched Jared's Adam’s apple bob up and down as he quenched his thirst.

Jared licked the wetness from his lips and held the bottle out. As Jensen reached a shaky hand to it, Jared spoke. “Who turned off the sensors, Jensen?”

Jensen stilled, hand hovering inches from the bottle, his thirst turning the gummy bitterness in his mouth to sandpaper and he couldn't even find enough saliva to swallow. Breaking his gaze away from the only thing in the universe he wanted at that moment, he turned his attention to the tanned skin of the large hand, its long fingers curled around the damp plastic. He remembered that hand smaller, softer, before it got the scar over his thumb joint. 

Was this it? Was this the price of his soul? A bottle of water.

Jensen closed his eyes and dropped his hand back to his lap.

A lifetime in a moment passed; the bottle so close, silence broken only by the minute movements of the guard as he shifted his stance. Then the bottle disappeared from his line of sight. The sound of the cap being screwed back on seemed incredibly loud.

“You sure?” Jared asked as quietly as death itself.

Jensen shook his head. No, he wasn't sure, and no, he wasn't speaking, and no, he didn't want Jared to start again, to take it to the next level, to make it worse, to seek out until he found what it was, what torture or need or weakness would be enough so Jensen would give in.

He heard a bellowing exhale and looked up. Jared wasn't looking at him, but away – away from him, away from the guard – his face tight, blazing in fury or frustration, the plastic bottle near crushing in his strong hand, the sudden violence engulfing him like a trembling volcano. 

“You're a stubborn son of a bitch.” hissed Jared.

The shivers had transformed into quaking, and Jensen shot out, grabbing at the hem of Jared's jacket. He had to touch, had to pull Jared back from whatever horrible, dark ideas he was coming up with. “Jared...”

Jared's hand flew, grabbing his wrists so tightly the bones twisting in the punishing grip. His burning gaze locked to his victim as he commanded his guard.

“Get the bath ready.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen never knew what misery and pain really were, until Jared showed him.

Water torture is as cruel and as diversified as it is simplistic. Jensen didn't know, but it was a specialty of Jared's. He'd learned it in China six years earlier, not as the interrogator, but as a prisoner. He'd been captured, betrayed actually, and, without a trial, sentenced to life in prison. He was questioned and tortured for seven months before the Center was able to get him out. Once he'd regained his strength and completed debriefing, after he'd proven himself, once again, through retraining, he'd set out to learn everything he could about one of the oldest known forms of torture. His first victim was the man who had betrayed him. It took the man eleven days to die. Since then, Jared had only gotten better.

Jensen didn't know any of that, wouldn't have cared if he did. All he knew was that agony could make him crave death. There was no way to describe what he endured. Twenty minute intervals. That was it. For twenty minutes at a time, his whole body dumped into an old caste iron tub filled with chest high water and hundreds of ice cubes, felt like hours. 

His body thrashed ferociously at the incredible shock, jolting and yanking against the cuffs, until it felt like his limbs were breaking, gasping, wheezing, and unable to expand his chest enough to draw in a full breath. Then his muscles clenched down, useless, weak as a day old kitten. His skin burned from the cold, burning as if on fire instead of in water. Inside his heart raced dangerously, straining to pump blood through shrinking veins as they start shutting down in an effort protect the body, slowing the flow. He screamed. At the top of his lungs, he screamed and he cursed. Within no time even talking wasn't possible, he couldn't force his numb lips to twist and take shape, his throat clenched down, lungs shriveled up in his chest and he couldn't stop the intense chattering of his teeth long enough to scream out his fear and fury. His eyes, squeezed tight to protect them plunged him into a frozen black void and his mind, his precious, talented mind, without enough blood and oxygen froze as sure as the ice cubes that battered his body. There was no fighting the pain, no hiding from the fear, no closing off from his suffering. Panic ruled.

Then they yanked him out. He had no idea who or when or even how. He'd barely even been aware of it before they dropped his convulsing body to rubber mat on the floor. Hands pawed at him to unbuckle and remove the cuffs at his wrists and ankles. The changes did little to alter his perceptions, shaking so hard, skin red and shiny, stinging from the cool air, tips of his toes and fingers, as well as his lips and eyelids hued a powder blue and the only action he had left to him with his new found freedom was to coil himself up in an effort to find some kind of relief. None was forthcoming. Buckets of water came next. Warm water that felt scalding against his flesh. By the third he could scream again, gasping, chocking on ferocious coughing fits. By the fifth bucket the quaking settled into a constant shiver and he’d collapsed to the floor, gasping and panting like he'd run a ten mile marathon through a Siberian blizzard in those short, lifelong, twenty minutes. He twisted, pressing his face into the rubber below him and sobbed, waiting for the inevitable, the questions.

Instead, without another word, they walked out. Left on the floor, too weak to move, too pathetic to do anything, and never in his life had Jensen ever felt so hopeless. At some point the tears had faded and a fugue state settle in, slow shallow breaths, not even traces of thought, waiting, perhaps, for the veins to flow enough blood back into the brain for a jump-start back to life. Until then, Jensen lay limp, a rag doll tossed to the floor by an unhappy child, unwanted, irrelevant, cold and exhausted.

He had no idea how long they left him there, ten minutes, or ten hours or ten days. He dozed until the cold cramping woke him, stayed awake until exhaustion claimed him, only to wake yet again in shudders and moans. When the door suddenly swung open, jarring him out of his most recent bout of pseudo rest four men came barreling in, followed by Jared. They fanned out around him, like giants, imposing and insensate. He couldn't figure out why four this time, and it was damn intimidating to have the five of them hovering in a circle around him. They didn't speak or make a move, just stared at him, waiting. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Jensen knew they were giving him the opportunity to talk, to beg, to give up.

Jared finally broke the stalemate. “Stand him up.”

They grabbed at him and he cried out, hands rough against his sensitive skin. Legs wobbly beneath him, and if not for the two men on either side holding him up he would have crumbled back down in an instant, but they did grab him and hold him and dig hard bruising fingers into his biceps and shoved him to face Jared. He cringed back, unable to bite back his frightened whimper. Jared grabbed his chin, forcing his head up, forcing him to look into the face of the person inflicting so much on him, seeing the hardness in his eyes, the tight clench of his jaw. The professional. The Center's asset. The fearsome agent.

“Are you finished being stubborn?”

An hysterical little giggle slipped out. Was that the problem? Jeff always said he was too stubborn for his own good. If he survived, he'd make a point of telling Jeff he was right. He locked on that, holding it as tightly as a prayer to keep himself from talking. But why bother? He wanted to, so badly he wanted to tell Jared everything because he knew what was coming. He knew what Jared was going to do to him again. He didn't think he could survive another bout in the bath. And it wasn't as if they wouldn't get the answer out of him eventually so why bother delaying the inevitable? He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and lowered his eyes. He couldn't speak while looking at Jared. 

Before he had a chance to make a sound Jared let out a sigh, and with it, the agent was expelled, leaving only Jared in its wake.

“You need to stop this, Jen.” he said quietly, hands cupping Jensen's cheeks, righting his lilting head. He lowering his voice to an intimate level; that seductive encouraging tone he'd always used to get Jensen out of his suite, to explore some new dangerous section that had been expressly forbidden to them, or to play a prank on some unsuspecting Center employee. “Remember when we were kids? You and me; a team. Us against them. Every time you needed me I was there, wasn't I?”

Jensen felt himself leaning into Jared, his body so warm, he'd always been a furnace next to Jensen, warm and sure and strong. Such a contrast to his bone chilled body. 

Jared tilted his head down, his smooth shaven cheek rubbing against Jensen's stubble. The gust of breath against his skin felt incredible. “Remember when you figured out a way to mix laughing gas in Mr. Raines's oxygen tank?” 

Jensen snickered inside his head – he didn't think it made it out. That had been funny. Serious and psychotic Mr. Raines singing and shaking his skinny ass in a mockery of a dance in the middle of the cafeteria, trying to get a line dance started. Jensen had never laughed so much in his life. He thought he'd be in a world of hurt for that stunt, hell, even Jeff had been furious with him. Jared's hands moved, wrapping his fingers around Jensen's neck to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck while his thumbs pressed Jensen's chin up.

“I took care of everything, didn't I? If you got in trouble I was there, with you, and I always fixed it. Whatever it took. And every time you tried to stop me from taking the blame I always said, 'consequences be damned'. I didn't care what happened to me so long as I fixed things for you. Do you remember that?”

Jensen closed his eyes, his head bobbing, nodding. He remembered. He wished he could go back to that innocent time, before he realized that his life was nothing more than a sadistic science project, before he knew about the world and the Center and assignments. To not know what he knows, to not be so afraid, to not have to always be so strong. Back to a time when he had someone he could rely on. That tone, that voice, the gentle stroking of a thumb over Jensen's cheek, all so familiar. Years of memories rushed to the surface, the laughter and excitement, sharing books and telling stories. Having someone there, shoulder to shoulder, someone at his back or standing between him and danger, someone to listen, to understand, to commiserate in the way only a best friend could.

“You trusted me,” continued Jared so softly in his ear, “and I know it's a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me again. I'm going to fix this. Just like I used to. Before I can do that though, I need you to answer me.”

He had trusted him. There was no one in the world he had trusted more than he'd trusted Jared when it came to his deepest dreams, his most private thoughts, and his body.

“Please, Jen. Let me do something for you instead of to you. Just tell me who turned off the sensors. Trust me and I'll fix this.”

That word tweaked something in the back of his mind, and Jensen’s brows furrowed in concentration, pulling at the threads leaking into the waterlogged brain. Jared wanted him to trust him. Trust the man who captured him and brought him back to this hell? The monster who crept into his dreams and made his body remember? It had been his friend who he'd listened to, his friend who he'd followed and trusted, and the man standing in front of him was not his friend. He was nothing like the boy who had captured his attention, interest and heart. And now Jared actually had the audacity; the goddamn balls, to ask for his trust again. Jensen's fury screamed. Nothing had changed. Jared offered him nothing but more lies and more deception, more promises that would never bear fruit.

“Go to hell.” he hissed.

Jared's hand froze in mid caress, his eyes widening and Jensen had to admit he was rather pleased with himself at the look of shock. He didn't know how long he would last. He didn't know when he would break. He just knew it wasn't that moment.

Jared took a step back and the cold glint in his eye matched the misery he was about to inflict. The agent's lips curled in a cruel smirk. “Guess he needs another bath.”

That's when he understood why Jared had brought four men with him. Jensen fought.

 

Back in his cell hours later, Jared came in alone. Jared talked. Jensen tried not to listen. Instead, he lay on the floor clenching and stretching his fingers until the feeling came back, rubbing at his toes until they no longer hurt, rubbing at exposed skin until the goose bumps faded. It was then that he remembered food and his need for the bathroom. Jared tossed him an apple from his own tray of food and told him to piss in the bucket in the corner. Then, Jared left alone with the promise of more in the morning.

 

Over the next week or so, Jensen learned that there was something much worse than enduring the ice bath. Something worse than having his hands bound at his back while his head is repeatedly plunged into water. Worse, than kicking and fighting helplessly while feeling his lungs fill with water and be so damned sure that this time they'll leave him in that one second too long and he won't ever wake up again. Waiting. Without a doubt, he would rather be enduring than waiting to endure. While enduring he cannot think, he cannot worry or stress because he can only focus on getting through it, surviving, but when he was in his cell, abused, naked body trembling and cowering in the corner, all he has time for was thinking. Thinking and sleeping, dreaming and waiting.

It was during those long hours that he realized it would be the waiting that would break him long before the water ever would.

Dread could be a living, breathing entity, crawling it's slimy fingers up Jensen's spine, wrapping it's tendrils around his heart and squeezing out every ounce of courage, sneaking into his dreams and twisting the shadows into nightmares of rushing water and coffins of ice. Jensen woke screaming twice before he finally gave up on sleep, leaving him long hours under the brightly burning, bald, light bulb with nothing to do but think. He turned into the wall, making himself as small as possible and let the sobbing take over. By the time the tears had dried on his skin, he was filled with so much fear of what was to come, choking on the dread that had squirmed into him like a virus. 

It was worse, so much worse because he knew what to expect. Not just intellectually, but physically, emotionally as well. Water draining the life out of him, leaving behind, barely, a thinking, breathing carcass. He didn't know how much more he could take and had to ask himself if it was worth it. Since surrendering was inevitable, why was he putting himself through so much? He could give up, answer the question, let them have their victory and then start plotting his next escape. 

The only thing stopping him was his fear of what they would make him do in the interim. He fully doubted he would get away with tempered assignments for long, if at all. In fact, he wouldn't put it past the old man to expect Jensen to prove himself, his obedience, which meant someone would die. So, Jensen focused on that. A man dying because of Jensen. Or maybe a woman. Or a child. Could be a family. Or a plane full of people in the effort to kill only one perceived threat. Didn't even have to be a threat. Could just be someone in the way of some plot to overthrow a government or corrupt the European stock market. But whatever it was, and whoever it was, aside, it would be Jensen's fault, his failure for not being strong enough. He couldn't let that happen, wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did. So he called on his anger, his righteous indignation, his resentment of everything Centre – how they stole him away from his family, how they turned and twisted truth, abused a small boy into believing his only worth was in solving their puzzles, on himself for not realizing sooner, seeing the damage, the pain his own intellect had caused. He breathed in his own wrath and fury and called on every remembered face that had already paid the highest prices. He recited Jeff's old stories, the soft gruff timbre hitching as he talked of fallen comrades. He made himself remember everything about Jared he swore to himself he would never face again. The betrayal, the hurt, the rejections, his broken dreams. With every twitch of his synapse, he felt life seeping through him like warm milk, calming a troubled soul after a nightmare and each new day he made himself a vow. He would not break today.

Then the door open again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen's losing himself in bite size chunks, and Jared is feasting.

Jensen's slumped into the corner of his little cell, the stone no longer freezing against this naked skin, but instead as comforting as he could hope for, his knees pulled against his chest, arms wrapped tight around them to hold in as much body heat as possible, ankles crossed at his groin to hide as much exposed flesh, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the cold. Even though it'd been two days since his last ice bath, he still couldn't feel warm, couldn't unclench, and couldn't make himself stretch out his limbs. Perhaps the cold was in his mind, triggered by the recent events and his weakened body, because the other men in the room weren't suffering, though, they were in their blue security pants and t-shirts – button up dress shirts long discarded as if too warm to wear. So yeah, he figured the cold was all in his head. Didn't help warm him up any.

Jensen studied his guards as they watched over him. One guard in particular, Paul. It was the doctor that let that little bit of info slip when he'd been brought in the day before. A safety precaution after Jensen's fourth ice bath and as many bouts with water boarding – Jared said he wanted to keep things interesting, which, apparently, water boarding did. Jensen had never fought so hard for his life and almost buckled and given up so many times during the 'dry drowning', almost submitted to the incessant questioning, the demanding barrage for compliance. Too close for Jensen's comfort. Had he not passed out... Perhaps he'd passed out one too many times because Jared called for a check-up. The doctor listened to his heart and tested his blood pressure, sucked out some blood, took a urine and stool sample from the bucket, clucked and sighed and barked at Paul to leave him do his job in peace when the guard grumbled about how long it was taking. The pity in the man's eyes was almost as painful as everything else Jensen endured, seeing someone dedicated to healing forced to participate into a situation of intentional suffering. However, if the man really did have a conscience, what the hell was he doing working for the Center? Jensen didn't voice his thoughts though, and thankfully so, because since that meeting there had been no more baths and food twice a day. Leaving him nothing else to do but sit and study the guards as they watched him. 

Paul, face no longer bandaged, though he still displayed the lingering reminders from two black eyes, grinned at Jensen while plopping a piece of chicken into his mouth. Jensen swallowed hungrily as the sadistic bastard lick grease off his lips. The delicious scent permeated the room, intensifying the hunger cramps, reminding him, again, that it had been a long time since he'd eaten and even longer since he'd tasted anything palatable. Even when they deigned to feed him, it was some juiced up form of porridge; a single bowl, tasteless and gritty, and only when Jared brought it. He tore his eyes away from the food, dropped his head down, resting his cheek against his knees, and rubbed the cold from his arms. 

Sometimes he would banter with the guards, especially Paul, who still held a grudge over his nose, but never when they ate in front of him. At first, Jensen thought he could gauge the passing of time until he noticed there was no discernible pattern. Sometimes only an hour would slip between one person or team eating, and sometimes it would feel like a full day without a single sighting of food. Coffee seemed to always be on tap though, which, in itself, was pure torture for Jensen. Not even the changing of the guard seemed to hold any apparent pattern Jensen could find. Nothing he could hold onto, nothing he could count on to define the passage of time. And with the light bulb above his head never switched off, he couldn't even tell if it was night or day. If he were to guess, though, based on the lingering bruises on Paul's face – the yellow tarnished and barely perceptible, the blues and black turned green and nearly faded out – he'd been on Level Twenty for two weeks. And having that little piece of information, a tangible indication of how long he'd held out, helped, it gave Jensen just a little more fortitude, proof that he was still his own man.

Jensen closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, slowing it to imitate sleep, despite knowing they wouldn't let him. Sleep was just something else that could only be granted by Jared. An hour here or there, a few catnaps, before they blew that infernal horn. Just enough sleep to survive, never enough to rest. It was only a few moments before the hand held air-horn blasted, loud and piercing through the air, like a knife stabbing into his already throbbing head. Jensen flinched his head back up. He'd learned not to ignore it. He dropped back against the wall and cocked a brow; waiting for whatever taunts Paul would throw his way. He didn't wait very long.

“If you want some of this, bitch, maybe you and I can come to an understanding.”

Jensen fought an eye roll. Paul wasn't just angry about his nose. If the many jaunts were any indication, he was also disappointed that Jared had interrupted his fun upstairs in the suite. Too often in the last few days he'd promised to finished what he'd started, mostly carefully out of earshot of the others, but not always. This was the most brazen comment, by far.

Jensen tossed out a noncommittal, “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned lecherously, pushing the remnants of his half-finished chicken dinner towards the end of the table. “Why don't you crawl your pretty ass over to the bars of your cage and open your mouth. I'm sure I can find something that'll curb your appetite.”

Eyeing the tender looking meat, Jensen licked his lips. He stole quick glances of the other two guards, both sitting still, so very still. One had a forkful of coleslaw half way to his mouth, held in limbo as his eyes widened at the courage, or stupidity, of his colleague, the other man's mouth gaped open, hands braced on the table, obviously shocked at Paul's suggestion – one that each person in the small room knew had nothing to do with the chicken – and it felt, for a moment, as if everyone held their breath for Jensen answer. Jensen stifled a smirk. The barely veiled caution in the eyes of the two voyeurs spoke volumes.

Jensen licked his lips again, eyes flickering from the chicken to Paul, seeing his throat bob as his eyes traced Jensen's movements, then glanced back to the chicken as if actually contemplating it. When his eyes fell back on Paul one last time he spoke. “Don't you think you should ask Jared's permission first?”

The lust instantly vanished under a dark cloud. Paul grabbed the leftovers and shoved them, plate and all, into the garbage can. “I forgot.” he fumed. “You're his whore.”

Jensen finally allowed his smirk out to play. “I prefer slut. Since I don't actually charge him.”

“Don't think you're safe, bitch. If I really wanted to sully myself with you he couldn't stop me.”

“Of course, big man. Whatever you say.” Jensen chuckled, dropping his cheek back to his knees and closing his eyes. It wouldn't help to infuriate his captor by baiting him more. He wasn't afraid of Paul because Paul was afraid of Jared, and since Paul seemed to be the largest and most dominant of the guards, that told him they all feared Jared. That told Jensen everything he needed to know about what limitations Jared had put on the guards. Paul was a loose cannon, though, but he was a loose cannon Jensen could manipulate. And if the time came, he would use it.

If the time came.

Jensen sighed. If. When. When the time came. He knew it would. One way or another, this couldn't last forever. Isolation, starvation, sleep deprivation, humiliation, cornerstones of torture-lite. No scars, no bruises or broken bones, no evidence left behind. And when Jared failed, if he failed, and if others worse took over, full out torture was the next avenue. As he waited, Jensen couldn't stop himself from thinking about that, about what would come from people Jared had termed nastier than himself. At that moment, Jensen couldn't even imagine. No, that wasn't true. He could. He'd seen enough in his life for his own mind to work against him. Images rushed to mind, twisting memories of old photographs coupled with first person accounts, newspaper stories and a few movies, but in each visual, it is him dangling from meat hooks, his body covered in welts and burns and blood, him screaming for mercy. And in each vision, it was always Jared standing before him. He shuddered hard, digging him fingers into the muscles of his thighs, gulping a deep breath to gain some control over the rising panic. 

He couldn't think past Jared because Jared consumed his thoughts. Jared controlled every moment of his existence. And Jensen knew he was weakening. Maybe, if the they hadn't stopped, if the doctor hadn't come and the abuse continued without interruption Jensen could have maintained his defiant status quo, kept his mind on the fight for survival, the fight no endure. However, they had stopped, and he'd spend too many hours sitting naked in a cell thinking and waiting and waiting and thinking, with nothing else to do but wonder what was next, how soon it would be before Jared returned to start the horror all over again. Wondering if it would be the caste iron tub, biting cold, or plunging his head into the water and holding him down, or the damp cloth over his face as gallon after gallon of water poured over him, dry drowning him again and again, bound and helpless as he fought for his life with no weapons. Or would it be something new? He shuddered hard at the thought. It could always be something new or worse, even without applying electricity or whips, which he was pretty damn sure those people Jared considered nastier than himself wouldn't hesitate to use. He was weak, he could feel it, breaking apart and crumbled every time Jared took him into the other room, leaving behind fragments of his soul, his willpower, his strength, every time he brought him back. Until Jensen wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to even defy Jared verbally, never mind physically under whatever assault. He could feel it, feel it himself cracking a bit more each hour he had to sit waiting for Jared to come back and start it all over again. He couldn't take much more. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if he could take any more.

It was hours later when the heavy door clunked open and Jared entered. It had been a long few hours, the constant taunting from the guards, the exposure grating on him as they watched everything he did, jeering, pushing, and provoking him at every turn. He could get angry, but it took too much energy. He could withdraw, but they would only pull him back out. He could surrender to it, but he'd really hoped he could make it one more day. The one thing he couldn't do was ignore them. 

Jared sauntered in all long, easy strut, dressed in the remnants of a dark suit, the tie gone, shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, his hair no longer brushed and gelled back, but instead loose around his chiseled features, all clean shaven and relaxed, balancing a tray on one hand – Jensen's cloth covered bowl of tepid, tasteless gruel. He ignored Jensen completely, instead moving to the table where the guards were now playing cards. “So how's our boy doing today? He behaving?”

This had become a ritual, and the guards always played along. “I think today's the day, Jared.” said the youngest of the three. “He's getting mighty desperate. He's gotta know he's running out of time.”

“Thought he was supposed to be smart.” added Paul. “Can't be too smart if he thinks he can stay quiet indefinitely.”

“Unless he's enjoying himself.” suggested the first.

“Oh, I'm pretty sure this isn't his idea of a good time.” Jared laughed.

“Good food, hot shower, soft bed, and all he has to do is give us one little name.” Paul smirked at Jensen, eyes running over his coiled up naked body. “Though I have to say I'm enjoying the view. Kinda hope he isn't in too much of a hurry.”

The idiot didn't notice Jared's split second furious scowl at that comment, but Jensen did. Or, thought he did. Jensen just rolled his eyes at the whole lot of them. He dropped his head down, closed his eyes, and tuned them out. 

The blast of the horn jerked him awake. He didn't know how long he slept, but he had. The others were gone and one of the chairs had been moved closer to the bars, where Jared now sat. Jared dropped the horn to the floor and picked up the bowl and spoon, stirring it slowly.

Jensen watched him silently, saw how Jared's brows furrowed, his lips pressed together as intent hazel eyes scanned over his body, cataloging the dirt stains, a couple of new scratches from when he stumbled earlier, pressure bruises from sleeping on the cold slab of floor, the shivering from both exhaustion and cold, until finally, he had crawled his way up every exposed inch of Jensen's body and met his eyes. He shook his head sadly.

“This can end, babe. Any time you want. I'll bring you upstairs, give you a warm bath, feed you something decent food, and take care of you. I've done it for you before, I'll do it again.”

Jensen didn't want to respond, he wanted to stay silent and defiant. He licked his lips, eyeing the bowl. The stuff might taste like crap, but it helped a bit with his hunger pangs. He knew what he needed to do to get it. Talk. Just talk and he would get it. Another ritual that had come from Jensen's stubborn silence when this had started. 

“And then what?” he asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what then? Take me upstairs and all is forgiven? Going to let me walk out the door? Or do you think the old man's going to use this, use whatever it is that finally works, whatever it is that you, Jared, do to me that will finally break me, to force me back to work? Force me to do things that I'll never be able to live with. So tell me, babe,” he sneered the endearment, “what happens then?”

Jared had stopped stirring during Jensen's rant, eyes holding as if he could see far past the anger spewing and hear the anguish behind the words. Eyes that could look at him and remember the boy, remember the kiss, remember him. For a moment, the briefest, tiniest moment, he saw something in the eyes, something he couldn't define or quantify, something more than the interrogator. He saw pain, hurt, maybe for Jensen, maybe for himself, hell, maybe even for everything they once dreamed of being when children, everything stolen from them, and with it, mingling and churning, he saw that fierce protectiveness that had always filled Jared's face when he'd been threatening everyone and everything on Jensen's behalf back when training had made the smaller boy cry.

Then Jared blinked and it was gone. “You know what happens then.”

Jensen sighed. Maybe he hadn't seen anything. His mind, his eyes, they were playing tricks on him, showing him what he wanted to see. It was hopeless. The Jared he knew, the boy, the friend, the long ago lover, was gone. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah. I do.”

Jared placed the bowl on the floor and pushed it under the bars. Jensen didn't even hesitate. What would be the point? They both knew how hungry he was, they both knew he would give in. No sense delaying the inevitable. With the bowl in hand, he scurried back into his corner, the farthest point away from the door. Jared glanced at his watch, checking the time, and then dropped forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between them to get a better look at Jensen in his spot on the floor. Jensen ignored him, instead shoveling three spoonfuls in before pausing to breathe. It was bad, grittier than usual, perhaps.

“You might want to slow down. You're going to make yourself sick.”

“Yeah, that would be a shame,” snipped Jensen with as much derision as he could muster. Was he supposed to believe Jared cared? “Wouldn't want to spoil all your fun, would we?” 

Jared watched the next few bites disappear slower. Jensen didn't really want to make himself sick, who knew if they'd replace whatever he lost. 

“I hate seeing you like this.” Jared said softly.

Jensen scoffed. He wasn't buying it.

“You think I'm enjoying this?”

Scraping his spoon across the bottom, he scooped up the last dregs, idly wondering how much mocking he'd get if he licked the bowl clean. Deciding against it, – he'd endured enough humiliation to last a lifetime – he placed the bowl onto his lap, not wanting to relinquish it, yet. It was something to hold onto other than his own skin or the hard bars of the cell. It was something from outside the confinement, from a place with clothing and lights that turned off, and people who didn't want him broken. It wasn't until he looked back up that he saw Jared actually expected an answer.

Jensen licked the last of his meal from his lips, buying himself another moment as he considered his answer. It would be so easy to bait Jared, to insult him, but Jared had all the power. “I think,” he said carefully, “you are in your element.”

Jared arched a brow, taking a moment to digest the words, and then shrugged dismissively, lips twitching in a little smile. “Perhaps.”

A yawn suddenly overtook Jensen and he rubbed a hand over his face. “You going to let me sleep soon?”

“You can sleep as much as you want?”

“Right. So long as I give you what you want.” He sighed. “I didn't think I would get off so easy.” He ran his hand through his hair, hoping to distract from the shudder running through him. It would be so easy to surrender, anything to stay any more suffering. Tears of frustration and fear bit at the back of his eyes and he dipped his head down, blinking them away before Jared caught on. “You'd think by now you might figure out this isn't working.”

“Oh, I figured that out.”

Jensen's head snapped up, eyes wide. “What does that mean?”

“Everything I've put you through is just pissing you off. Gives you that added little burst you need to get through it. If I were to continue on the same path, I'd have to ramp it up. It'd mean the world of hurt, things you don't really want happening to that pretty body of yours.”

“Jared...” he began nervously, his heartbeat quickening, but Jared just continued, hazel eyes darkening, like a slow rising storm. 

“I'm good at getting answers with electricity, Jen, but damn, I'm a fucking artist with knives.”

Fear thrummed through Jensen as Jared's gaze roamed over his body, licking his lips slowly as if picturing it, savouring the thought. “But I don't really want to damage such perfect skin.”

With a blink Jared's eyes shot back up to meet Jensen's wide frightened ones. “The problem we keep running into is that you're stubborn. Part of you wants to tell me, wants this over with, but you're too damn pigheaded to give in.”

Jensen would argue the point, but Jared wasn't too far off the mark. It wasn't stubbornness, though. 

“I don't think pain will help you get past that,” added Jared, and there was no way Jensen would argue with that. “Wh... what...” he had to clear his throat to get the words out clearly. “What does that leave?”

“Something that will help you be less stubborn.”

Jensen swallowed hard. “Drugs?”

Jared nodded, dark eyes never leaving the man on the floor. 

“There's no such thing as a truth serum, Jared. They're too unpredictable, you know that.”

“All it takes is the right questions, asked the right way, by the right interrogator.” He rose from his seat, grabbing the back of the chair and dragging it back towards the table, the scratching of metal legs against stone floor like a knife against a whetstone.

Tears burned at the back of Jensen's eyes and he squeezed them tight, his thoughts jumping to all the literature he'd read concerning drug induced interrogations, how to trick them, how to lie while under them. Somehow, none of it seemed plausible, not with Jared asking the questions. Not with the way Jared could get into his head when he wasn't under the influence. Maybe Jensen should have expected this, but he hadn't, not really. Maybe it was delusional of him, but deep down he had expected the boy he had once known to have some limits. Wouldn't that be why others would be brought in should Jared fail? He opened his eyes as Jared was reaching the door. 

His shocked words came out barely a whisper. ”You’re going to drug me?” Then, louder as the anger within him grew. “You son of a bitch! You’re going to drug me?”

Jared paused, his hand on the doorknob and turned his head back, face as serious as Jensen had ever seen it. His eyes flickered to the floor beside Jensen before looking back up. “I already have.”

Jensen followed the gaze down to the grey cement and saw the forgotten bowl. The bowl that had held the meal he'd gulped down. His eyes snapped wide. “Oh, God.” He turned and glared at Jensen. “You fucker!”

“See you in forty minutes.”

The bowl slammed into the door a half second before it snapped closed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared wanted the truth, well then Jensen's going to give it to him, all of it.

Lights. Pretty lights. Lights with streamers he couldn't touch, but it was okay because the gentle gold streamers reached out and made him warmer and warm was good. So good. Jensen purred, his body stretching out against the floor, left hand reaching out for the streamer only to slump back and flop against the floor. Jensen giggled.

He was stoned. Oh yeah, was he stoned. He didn't know what Jared had put in his food, but whatever it was, it was awesome.

He felt good, relaxed and warm, squirming around on the floor and watching the streamers of light wave and shimmer out towards him, and if he squinted just right, he could catch one in the corner of his eye at just the right angle and maybe if he was fast enough he could catch it. His hands didn't want to move fast, though, too heavy and lazy. Yeah, that was the problem. His hands were lazy. Streamers, gold and white above him, thick grey around him, surrounded him. There were bubbles underneath him, brown and beige bubbles. He didn't like them; they kept poking him, so he ignored them and focused above. He liked the gold streamers the best because they were the ones chasing the cold away. They chased away bad thoughts and memories. He liked it in this place, his own little sanctuary, better than all the time he’d spent since his return to the Center, and even better than his year outside of it because in here no one was chasing him, no one hiding in shadows.

“You look calmer,” said the shimmering gold light.

Jensen blinked. Okay, he might be stoned but even he knew light didn't comment on his state of mind. He blinked again, then again, crawling his way out of the pleasant little buzz, leaving the pleasant little happy place until he saw the tall shape; a dark shadow against bright light. He blinked again, forcing his eyes to focus. Jared stood on the other side of the dangling grey streamers. But, they weren't streamers. They were bars, bars to his cell. A cell Jared had caged him in. He closed his eyes and slumped back onto the floor. 

“Right,” he said softly, remembering everything.

He opened his eyes again at the sound of keys jingling. Juggling a water bottle, a manila folder, and a chair in one hand, Jared took a second or two to find the right key, and then slid it into the locked cell door. As the door swung open, anxiety rippled through Jensen. Every other time Jared had opened that door it had been to let the guards rush in and grab him to take him out and inflict the daily torment. However, this time Jared was alone, no one else to help him should Jensen fight. As Jared stepped into the little cell, the metal legs of the chair scraping loudly against the stone floor, Jensen scrubbed at his face. He struggled to push himself up, his limbs heavy and unsteady under him, and coiled his body back into the corner. His eyes followed Jared as he sprawled into his seat, knees dropping wide and careless, appearing comfortable and relaxed.

Then they stared at each other.

Jensen ground his teeth together, determined not to be the one to break the silence. Jared looked refreshed, as if recently showered, his hair brushed back off his face, a clean white dress shirt opened at the throat and grey dress pants, but there was stress around his eyes, soft smudges and new lines, and tightness around his mouth that had nothing to do with any effort to keep silent. Jensen would be lying to himself if he said he didn't find pleasure that the last few weeks weren't as easy on Jared as he tried to convey. 

A loopy grin stretching across Jensen’s face cracking his dry lips. He licked at them, his tongue feeling swollen in his parched mouth, and despite his best efforts, his eyes kept flickering over to the bottle Jared held in his hand, riveted for a moment as a drop of condensation slipped down the sweaty plastic and melted into Jared’s pants. The corner of Jared’s lips twitched in a grin, eyes never leaving Jensen’s as he slowly unscrewed the cap. Jensen’s tongue flickered out, sliding along his own bottom lip, following the bottle as it moved, tilted towards Jared’s pink lips. The water waved forward and Jared swallowed a mouthful, Adams apple bobbing enticingly. There was something hypnotic about it, captivating. And it wasn't until the whimper escaped Jensen at the trickle of water dribbling out the corner of Jared’s mouth and sprinkling his chin that Jensen realized his dick was thickening. He ripped his gaze away, glaring at the wall. What blood wasn't rushing south blazed through his face and he shifted, trying to hide his burgeoning erection. By the time he had himself under some level of control he glanced back to Jared. Jared lips curled in the sexiest smirk, his eyes all but twinkling. “Liked that, did you?”

It had to be the drugs. Please let it be the drugs. “What the hell did you give me?”

Instead of answering, though, Jared held out the bottle. “Finish it. I don’t want you dehydrating.”

Jensen’s hand started to reach for it before he yanked it back. “Like I’m going to let you drug me even more.”

Jared chuckled. “Would I be drinking it if it were drugged?”

Of course he wouldn't, and it was so obvious Jensen should have figured that out himself. A reminder of his sluggish his mind. He snapped his arm out, grabbing the bottle and dropped back into the corner, keeping as far away from Jared as he could. He drained the bottle in seconds, having to bite back the moan. So good. He could feel it, the water, cool, delicious, refreshing; teasing at the delicate interior of his mouth, like a caress down his throat. Every sensation multiplied.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a sigh, his head tipping back against the wall. “So just you and me, huh? All alone.”

“We’re not really alone. You know that.” Twisting his head back, Jared glanced at the camera implanted in the corner; the little red light blinking steadily. Jensen had noticed it right from the start, knew Jared watched him when he was not in the sub-basement, wondered who else, how many within the building sat at their desks and watched his torture. There was one who was most certainly watching. 

He lifted a hand and flipped the middle finger towards the camera. “Go to hell, old man. I haven’t broken yet.”

Jensen froze. It was provocative, an action that could only result in Mr. Parker pushing even harder, a stupid and immature move that was beneath Jensen. But there seem to be no buffer between those impulsive thoughts, those little twinges that come to mind before common sense or experience temper action. His heartbeat raced as the puzzle pieces started clicking into place. No buffer meant the drug was affecting his orbitofrontal cortex; that part of the brain involved in the cognitive processing, of decision-making and so very important in signaling the expected rewards/punishments of an action given the particular details of a situation. With it impaired, the brain was incapable of comparing the expected reward/punishment with the actual delivery of reward/punishment. Instant gratification becomes its own reward, and, as Jared said so often growing up, damned the consequences. 

“How do you feel?” Jared asked.

“Scared out of my freaking mind,” came the almost instant response. Jensen let out a tiny whimper, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them tight to his chest. “I fucking hate you.”

A flicker of hurt crossed through attentive hazel eyes. There was a time Jensen might have believed it, but at that moment, when his actions, his very thoughts could be ripped out of him so easily, when Jared’s attack was so clinically perfect against him, there was nothing he felt but absolute loathing. Even compared to everything else, the way Jared used his body, betraying him and bringing him back to this hellhole, this was by far the worst. 

“You’re sitting at the grownups table now, Jared. Parker must be so pleased with you; his perfect little soldier, no conscience, no soul. No wonder he prefers you over his own daughter.”

“Not everything is so black and white and not everything you see is what you think it is. And yeah, we all have to do things we will regret the rest of our life, but we do it for the greater good. We do it because sacrifices have to be made to…” 

Jensen exploded venomously before he even knew he would speak. “And I’m your fucking sacrifice?”

The sound echoed off the cinder block walls, Jared stiffening and Jensen flinching at his own fury. He felt out of control. So much, thoughts memories, discussion, insults, declaration, he’d spent a lifetime suppressing, trying to fight its way out. His eyes screwed tight. All the things he’d only ever said to Jared inside his own head leading the battle. His hand slid up over his knees to clamp his mouth shut. He would not do this. Drugs or not, he would not let his own thoughts be rip from his mind. 

Minutes ticked away, long minutes as Jared just watched him and Jensen just waited for the damning questions. But when Jared finally started talking, it was not what Jensen expected. Jared shifted, straightening in the chair; he licked his lips as if preparing himself. 

“I’m not, you know.”

Jensen arched a questioning brow, though he was pretty sure he knew to what Jared referred. 

“I’m not enjoying this.” It sounded like a confession, or a secret, like something Jared didn't want him knowing.

Jensen’s hands dropped to his knees. “Right. Because tormenting me isn't how you get your kicks.”

A little smile tilted the corner of his lips, and Jared shrugged. “What happened upstairs, hell, even what we did outside, yeah, can’t say I didn't like putting you in your place. But this, Jen, this isn't like that. This is different. I don’t like having to hurt you and we both know that if you don’t leave me any other choice I’m going to have to ramp things up.”

Jensen would have snickered if he had the energy. “You’re concern for my well-being is touching.”

“You don’t believe me. Yeah, I get that. Haven’t given you reason to since you came back. So take a moment and think about what we meant to each other before, back when…”

Jensen cut him off. “When you left me in the boiler room?”

“No!” barked Jared suddenly.

Before Jensen even had a chance to flinch at the outburst, Jared was already pulling himself back. He seemed to droop lower in the chair, his head sinking down between his shoulders to stare at the floor between his feet. Waves of chestnut hair swayed down to create a barrier between Jared and the world, hiding him, but it didn't matter. Jensen could see the emotion rippling through his shoulders, the bunching of his forearms as his hands coiled into fists. 

“No.” he said more quietly, struggling to regain control. He looked back up staring at the floor half way between them, darkness swirling in his eyes, anger and something else Jensen couldn't place. 

“Not that…” he began, paused a brief second before a slight shake of his head, as if shaking away his choice of words. “Not that.” he said again with finality.

They had never spoken of that night, never had the chance, and now that it had come, Jensen didn't know what to say, didn't know if he wanted to say anything, so he said nothing.

“I never got why you pushed me away, threw everything we had, our friendship, away.”

Jared went quiet as if waiting an answer. Jensen pushed himself back into the cold cement and turned his head to the side, staring at the wall, regretting every bringing the damn subject up. 

“You were my first, you know.” Jared finally broke the tense silence. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and then, for the first time since the reference to that horrible night came up, looked directly at Jensen, offering a soft, reminiscent smile. “My first friend. I never knew what it was like to have a friend before that. Someone who talked to me and listened to me, laughed with me instead of at me. I was your first friend, too, wasn't I?”

Jensen nodded, never taking his eyes from the man before him, seeing him in a way he hadn't since that moment behind the library, his capture, months earlier. He was seeing emotion, not calculations, just talking to him, with him; much as they had done so many years ago. There was a vulnerable edge to Jared’s tone, more confessions he wasn't sure he wanted to share, but he soldiered on. “You were the first person to ever make me laugh. Really laugh. Did you know that?”

Jensen just watched silently, listening, seeing. Jared shrugged slightly, and added softly. “And you were my first lover. The first one I ever wanted to touch, to have touch me.”

And that was too much. Jensen could feel it crawling up inside him. Too much truth wrapped up in lies. It broke the spell, the ache he’d felt for a moment for the boy he’s known because if Jared could lie this well to his face, then nothing he said was true. It was a conversation Jensen swore years ago they would never have. He clamped his jaw so hard his teeth ached, trying to keep the words inside him even though he already knew it was too late. 

“And you were my …” Jared began. 

But it was Jensen who finished, “First assignment.”

Jared froze. Then his mouth started making aborted little movements as if trying to make words suddenly appear. He finally croaked out, “What did you say?”

Jensen let out a sigh. They were going to have this conversation whether he wanted to or not, even as he fought it, he could feel the words just bubbling up. And, if he were honest, the instant gratification of showing Jared, once and for all, that he knew exactly who and what he was, had merit. Jensen let the memory wash over him.

“We were sitting in the ducts over the east tower elevator. You were tired, drained. You wouldn't tell me why, you never told me about training, but I knew it had not been going well. I hadn't seen you smile in weeks. You were just so… sad. Our hands were clasped together real tight and we were talking about futures, dreaming about getting out of here.” Jensen’s hand waved, the simple action encompassing far more than just the Center, but also the life they had always known. 

“You were talking about fathers, about last names having meaning. About legacy from father to son and how we would never have anything to claim or pass on. I didn't remember my family anymore, not really, I was too young when they took me, but you did. You would talk about your dad late at night when everything was dark. You would whisper so quietly. It was like you were afraid if it was anything more than a whisper it would fade away. So I thought, if I could get into the records hall then maybe I could find your file, find out something about your family, your father. It was going to be a present from me to you.”

Jared still had not moved, as still as any statue, eyes locked, dread clear on his face. 

Jensen hesitated because it hurt. Even now, so many years later it still clenched his heart tightly and squeezed the breath from his lungs. He exhaled a shaky breath. “You know what I found instead?” A single tear slid down the side of his face. “A detailed report, analysis and stratagem of our relationship.”

Jared exhaled sharply, as if gut-punched.

Swishing a hand across his face, Jensen chased away the wetness. “That accidental meeting in the library when you supposedly got lost in the ducts, suggested topics of discussion to draw me out and earn my confidence, short term and long term goals, failed avenues and anticipated alternatives, even your punishments when you went against protocol, it was all in there. I read the summation, expectations. Hell, I read about my goddamn sex life in that file.” 

“Oh Christ.” Jared’s words whispered across the room. “Jensen, I…” 

Jensen hissed out, not wanting to hear whatever would come next. That Jared thought he could ever find words to explain or justify only helped to twist Jensen’s melancholy memories into vicious anger. “So I didn't throw away our friendship, Jared, because it was all lies. You, you son of a bitch, were never my friend. I was your first goddamn assignment so you could please Daddy Parker.”

“Jensen… no…”

“Don’t!” growled Jensen, feeling the fury and betrayal as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. “Don’t you dare! There is nothing you can say. There’s not a fucking word that could come out of your mouth that I would believe because you are a goddamn liar!”

Jared chest heaved as he gulped in a breath, then exhaled shakily, the muscles in his shoulders, his arms clenched so tightly they trembled, on the brink of lashing out. Jensen could see it, smell it in the air and tried to prepare himself for it. But then Jared nodded, just twitched his chin up and down. His voice belied everything his body displayed; a whisper, soft, resigned. “Fair enough.”

Jensen’s heart pounded in his chest, glaring at his tormentor. His emotions whirled out of control, flailing inside his chest, scoring out the pain he’d hidden so deep, thrusting it up to the surface. Some part of his mind understood this was a side effect of the drug, without the rational part of his mind he was nothing but emotions running rampant. Rationality had always tempered his hurt and anger, knowing the training Jared had been through, the pressure and expectations that had been imposed from such a young age. And no matter how much it hurt he could always understand; Jared was a creation of the Center. But there was no rational anymore, no logic to cling to, just overwhelming emotion and it was too much. A lifetime of suppressed hurt and anger ripped free of its bondage and stole his breath away, like a fist wrapping around his throat, choking him. He could feel it, all if it, living it again. The hollowness when he’d come here, the loss of everyone he loved, the isolation and fear, the exhaustion of being hounded daily to learn, think, be better, the walls crushing in year after year while he learned about an entire world denied him. And all through it, feeling so alone, so lonely, until he’s met Jared. Jared who had tumbled in, so strong and defiant and courageous, nothing Jensen ever thought he could be. Jared, who had wrapped Jensen in a cocoon of play, and mischief and secrets plans. He’d been everything to Jensen. And then he’d ripped it away. Shredded every dream they’d shared and made it vile, made it dirty. Lies. Nothing but lies. And Jensen had let those lies touch him, soothe him, lay with him and learn his body. Let them into his heart. His heart clenched, fresh wound slashing open. No filters, no protection.

He panted, wheezing, twisting his body around, knees hitting the cold stone floor seconds before his hands. The ache climbed up his throat in a whimper, stifled and strangled. He couldn't breathe!

“Enough!” barked Jared.

Jensen’s head snapped up, eyes wide, bleeding tears, to find Jared dropping to a knee beside him. That large strong hand grabbed a clump of hair and wrenched Jared’s head back. “So you know. So fucking what? You gonna cry in your cereal every morning? Doesn't change anything, Jensen. You hear me? It doesn't change a goddamn thing!”

Breath rushed through Jensen’s stretched throat. Beside him Jared hovered over his trembling body, strong and menacing, his hand so tight strands yanked from his skull, his eyes, glint of cruelty as angry as his words, but more. Subtly, underneath the storm of power and corruption there was pleading in his eyes, willing Jensen to hear his words. 

“Listen to what I am saying to you. Look at my face and see the truth. Nothing has changed.”

And he did, he obeyed, he looked right into Jared's face, into his eyes. It didn't make sense, but it didn't need to. It was enough to rip the tornado of the ancient wounds to shreds, yanking Jensen from the past into the present, the echo of suffering crushed under the imminent danger. This was a battle he could still fight, was still fighting. The danger wasn't some giant international corporation. It wasn't untethered memories or injustices. And it wasn't out of reach. The only real danger was here. Jared. The liar. The betrayer. The enemy.

Jensen lip curled back and he sneered. “Damn you. And damn the consequences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now folks, and tho it might be a while coming, I will finish this. And yes, it's perfectly fine to kick my ass if I'm taking too long.


End file.
